OF 

CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIE<30 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 


-HTAFF& 


Look  there,  Doris — you  see  that  path?     Let's  go 
on  to  the  moor  a  little." 


A 

GREAT 
SUCCESS 


By 
Mrs.  Humphry  Ward 

Author  of  "Eltham  House," 
"Delia  Blanchflower,"  etc. 


New  York 

Hearst's  International  Library  Co. 
1916 


COPYRIGHT.  1916.  BY 
HEARST'S  INTERNATIONAL  LIBRARY  Co.,  INC. 


All  right*  reserved,  including  that  of  translation  into 
foreign  languages,  including  the  Scandinavian. 


PRINTED  IN   1:.   s.    A. 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

PART  I 
CHAPTER  I 

RTHUR,— what  did  you  give  the 
man?" 

" Half  a  crown,  my  dear !  Now  don't 
make  a  fuss.  I  know  exactly  what 
you're  going  to  say!" 

"Half  a  crown!"  said  Doris  Meadows, 
in  consternation.  ''The  fare  was  one 
and  twopence.  Of  course  he  thought  you 
mad.  But  I '11  get  it  back!" 

And  she  ran  to  the  open  window,  cry- 
ing "Hi!"  to  the  driver  of  a  taxi-cab, 
who,  having  put  down  his  fares,  was 
just  on  the  point  of  starting  from  the 
door  of  the  small  semi-detached  house 
in  a  South  Kensington  street,  which 


2  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

owned  Arthur  and  Doris  Meadows  for  its 
master  and  mistress. 

The  driver  turned  at  her  call. 

"Hi!  —  Stop!  You've  been  over- 
paid!" 

The  man  grinned  all  over,  made  her  a 
low  bow,  and  made  off  as  fast  as  he 
could. 

Arthur  Meadows,  behind  her,  went 
into  a  fit  of  laughter,  and  as  his  wife,  dis- 
comfited, turned  back  into  the  room  he 
threw  a  triumphant  arm  around  her. 

"I  had  to  give  him  half  a  crown,  dear, 
or  burst.  Just  look  at  these  letters — 
and  you  know  what  a  post  we  had  this 
morning!  Now  don't  bother  about  the 
taxi!  What  does  it  matter?  Come  and 
open  the  post." 

Whereupon  Doris  Meadows  felt  her- 
self forcibly  drawn  down  to  a  seat  on  the 
sofa  beside  her  husband,  who  threw  a 
bundle  of  letters  upon  his  wife's  lap,  and 
then  turned  eagerly  to  open  others  with 
which  his  own  hands  were  full. 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  3 

"H'm! — Two  more  publishers'  letters, 
asking  for  the  book — don't  they  wish 
they  may  get  it !  But  I  could  have  made 
a  far  better  bargain  if  I'd  only  waited  a 
fortnight.  Just  my  luck!  One — two — 
four — autograph  fiends!  The  last — a 
lady,  of  course! — wants  a  page  of  the 
first  lecture.  Calm!  Invitations  from 
the  Scottish  Athenaeum — the  Newcastle 
Academy — the  Birmingham  Literary 
Guild — the  Glasgow  Poetic  Society — the 
'British  Philosophers' — the  Dublin  Dil- 
ettanti ! — Heavens ! — how  many  more ! 
None  of  them  offering  cash,  as  far  as  I 
can  see — only  fame — pure  and  undefiled ! 
Hullo! — that's  a  compliment! — the  Par- 
nassians have  put  me  on  their  Council. 
And  last  year,  I  was  told,  I  couldn't  even 
get  in  as  an  ordinary  member.  Dash 
their  impudence!  .  .  .  This  is  really  as- 
tounding !  What  are  yours,  darling  I ' ' 

And  tumbling  all  his  opened  letters  on 
the  sofa,  Arthur  Meadows  rose — in  sheer 
excitement — and  confronted  his  wife, 


with  a  flushed  countenance.  He  was  a 
tall,  broadly  built,  loose-limbed  fellow, 
with  a  fine  shaggy  head,  whereof  various 
black  locks  were  apt  to  fall  forward  over 
his  eyes,  needing  to  be  constantly  thrown 
back  by  a  picturesque  action  of  the  hand. 
The  features  were  large  and  regular,  the 
complexion  dark,  the  eyes  a  pale  blue,  un- 
der bushy  brows.  The  whole  aspect  of 
the  man,  indeed,  was  not  unworthy  of  the 
adjective  "Olympian,"  already  freely 
applied  to  it  by  some  of  the  enthusiastic 
women  students  attending  his  now  fa- 
mous lectures.  One  girl  artist  learned  in 
classical  archaeology,  and  a  haunter  of 
the  British  Museum,  had  made  a  char- 
coal study  of  a  well-known  archaistic 
"Diespiter"  of  the  Augustan  period,  on 
the  same  sheet  with  a  rapid  sketch  of 
Meadows  when  lecturing ;  a  performance 
which  had  been  much  handed  about  in  the 
lecture-room,  though  always  just  avoid- 
ing— strangely  enough — the  eyes  of  the 
lecturer.  .  .  .  The  expression  of  slum- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  5 

brous  power,  the  mingling  of  dream  and 
energy  in  the  Olympian  countenance,  had 
been,  in  the  opinion  of  the  majority,  ex- 
tremely well  caught.  Only  Doris  Mead- 
ows, the  lecturer's  wife,  herself  an  artist, 
and  a  much  better  one  than  the  author  of 
the  drawing,  had  smiled  a  little  queerly 
on  being  allowed  a  sight  of  it. 

However,  she  was  no  less  excited  by 
the  batch  of  letters  her  husband  had  al- 
lowed her  to  open  than  he  by  his.  Her 
bundle  included,  so  it  appeared,  letters 
from  several  leading  politicians:  one, 
discussing  in  a  most  animated  and 
friendly  tone  the  lecture  of  the  week  be- 
fore, on  "Lord  George  Bentinck";  and 
two  others  dealing  with  the  first  lecture 
of  the  series,  the  brilliant  pen-portrait 
of  Disraeli,  which — partly  owing  to  fem- 
inine influence  behind  the  scenes — had 
been  given  verbatim  and  with  much  pre- 
liminary trumpeting  in  two  or  three  Tory 
newspapers,  and  had  produced  a  real  sen- 
sation, of  that  mild  sort  which  alone  the 


6  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

British  public — that  does  not  love  lec- 
tures— is  capable  of  receiving  from  the 
report  of  one.  Persons  in  the  political 
world  had  relished  its  plain  speaking; 
dames  and  counsellors  of  the  Primrose 
League  had  read  the  praise  with  avidity, 
and  skipped  the  criticism;  while  the 
mere  men  and  women  of  letters  had  ap- 
preciated a  style  crisp,  unhackneyed, 
and  alive.  The  second  lecture  on  "Lord 
George  Bentinck"  had  been  crowded,  and 
the  crowd  had  included  several  Cabinet 
Ministers,  and  those  great  ladies  of  the 
moment  who  gather  like  vultures  to  the 
feast  on  any  similar  occasion.  The  third 
lecture,  on  "Palmer ston  and  Lord  John" 
— had  been  not  only  crowded,  but 
crowded  out,  and  London  was  by  now 
fully  aware  that  it  possessed  in  Arthur 
Meadows  a  person  capable  of  painting  a 
series  of  La  Bruyere-like  portraits  of 
modern  men,  as  vivid,  biting,  and 
1 '  topical '  ' — mutatis  mutandis — as  the 
great  French  series  were  in  their  day. 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  7 

Applications  for  the  coming  lecture  on 
"Lord  Randolph"  were  arriving  by 
every  post,  and  those  to  follow  after — 
on  men  just  dead,  and  others  still  alive — 
would  probably  have  to  be  given  in  a 
much  larger  hall  than  that  at  present  en- 
gaged, so  certain  was  intelligent  London 
that  in  going  to  hear  Arthur  Meadows 
on  the  most  admired — or  the  most  de- 
tested— personalities  of  the  day,  they  at 
least  ran  no  risk  of  wishy-washy  pan- 
egyric, or  a  dull  caution.  Meadows  had 
proved  himself  daring  both  in  compli- 
ment and  attack;  nothing  could  be 
sharper  than  his  thrusts,  or  more  Olym- 
pian than  his  homage.  There  were 
those  indeed  who  talked  of  "airs" 
and  "mannerisms,"  but  their  faint 
voices  were  lost  in  the  general  shout- 
ing. 

"Wonderful!"  said  Doris,  at  last, 
looking  up  from  the  last  of  these  epistles. 
"I  really  didn't  know,  Arthur,  you  were 
such  a  great  man." 


8  A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

Her  eyes  rested  on  him  with  a  fond 
but  rather  puzzled  expression. 

"Well,  of  course,  dear,  you've  always 
seen  the  seamy  side  of  me,"  said  Mead- 
ows, with  the  slightest  change  of  tone  and 
a  laugh.  "Perhaps  now  you'll  believe 
me  when  I  say  that  I'm  not  always  lazy 
when  I  seem  so — that  a  man  must  have 
time  to  think,  and  smoke,  and  dawdle,  if 
he's  to  write  anything  decent,  and  can't 
always  rush  at  the  first  job  that  offers. 
When  you  thought  I  was  idling — I 
wasn't!  I  was  gathering  up  impres- 
sions. Then  came  an  attractive  piece  of 
work — one  that  suited  me — and  I  rose  to 
it.  There,  you  see!" 

He  threw  back  his  Jovian  head,  with  a 
look  at  his  wife,  half  combative,  half 
merry. 

Doris's  forehead  puckered  a  little. 

"Well,  thank  Heaven  that  it  has 
turned  out  well!"  she  said,  with  a  deep 
breath.  "Where  we  should  have  been  if 
it  hadn't  I'm  sure  I  don't  know!  And, 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  9 

as  it  is By  the  way,  Arthur,  have 

you  got  that  packet  ready  for  New 
York?"  Her  tone  was  quick  and  anx- 
ious. 

"What,  the  proofs  of  'Dizzy'?  Oh, 
goodness,  that'll  do  any  time.  Don't 
bother,  Doris.  I'm  really  rather  done — 
and  this  post  is — well,  upon  my  word,  it's 
overwhelming ! ' '  And,  gathering  up  the 
letters,  he  threw  himself  with  an  air  of 
fatigue  into  a  long  chair,  his  hands  be- 
hind his  head.  '  *  Perhaps  after  tea  and  a 
cigarette  I  shall  feel  more  fit. ' ' 

* '  Arthur ! — you  know  to-morrow  is  the 
last  day  for  catching  the  New  York 
mail. ' ' 

"Well,  hang  it,  if  I  don't  catch  it,  they 
must  wait,  that's  all!"  said  Meadows 
peevishly.  "If  they  won't  take  it,  some- 
body else  will." 

"They"  represented  the  editor  and 
publisher  of  a  famous  New  York  maga- 
zine, who  had  agreed  by  cable  to  give  a 
large  sum  for  the  "Dizzy"  lecture,  pro- 


10  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

vided  it  reached  them  by  a  certain  date. 

Doris  twisted  her  lip. 

"Arthur,  do  think  of  the  bills!" 

"Darling,  don't  be  a  nuisance!  If  I 
succeed  I  shall  make  money.  And  if  this 
isn't  a  success  I  don't  know  what  is." 
He  pointed  to  the  letters  on  his  lap,  an 
impatient  gesture  which  dislodged  a  cer- 
tain number  of  them,  so  that  they  came 
rustling  to  the  floor. 

"Hullo! — here's  one  you  haven't 
opened.  Another  coronet!  Gracious! 
I  believe  it's  the  woman  who  asked  us  to 
dinner  a  fortnight  ago,  and  we  couldn't 
go." 

Meadows  sat  up  with  a  jerk,  all  lan- 
guor dispelled,  and  held  out  his  hand  for 
the  letter. 

"Lady  Dunstable!  By  George!  I 
thought  she'd  ask  us, — though  you  don't 
deserve  it,  Doris,  for  you  didn't  take 
any  trouble  at  all  about  her  first  invita- 
tion  " 

"We  were  engaged!"  cried  Doris,  in- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  11 

terrupting  him,  her  eyebrows  mounting. 
"We  could  have  got  out  of  it  perfectly. 
But  now,  listen  to  this : 

"Dear  Mr.  Meadows, — I  hope  your  wife  will  ex- 
cuse my  writing  to  you  instead  of  to  her,  as  you 
and  I  are  already  acquainted.  Can  I  induce  you 
both  to  come  to  Crosby  Ledgers  for  a  week-end, 
on  July  16  ?  We  hope  to  have  a  pleasant  party,  a 
diplomat  or  two,  the  Home  Secretary,  and  General 
Hichen — perhaps  some  others.  You  would,  I  am 
sure,  admire  our  hill  country,  and  I  should  like  to 
show  you  some  of  the  precious  autographs  we  have 
inherited. 

"Yours  sincerely, 

"RACHEL  DUNSTABLE. 

"If  your  wife  brings  a  maid,  perhaps  she  will 
kindly  let  me  know." 

Doris  laughed,  and  the  amused  scorn 
of  her  laugh  annoyed  her  husband. 
However,  at  that  moment  their  small 
house-parlourmaid  entered  with  the  tea- 
tray,  and  Doris  rose  to  make  a  place  for 
it.  The  parlourmaid  put  it  down  with 
much  unnecessary  noise,  and  Doris,  look- 
ing at  her  in  alarm,  saw  that  her  expres- 
sion was  sulky  and  her  eyes  red.  When 


12  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

the  girl  had  departed,  Mrs.  Meadows 
said  with  resignation — 

" There!  that  one  will  give  me  notice 
to-morrow!'* 

"Well,  I'm  sure  you  could  easily  get  a 
better!"  said  her  husband  sharply. 

Doris  shook  her  head. 

"The  fourth  in  six  months !"  she  said, 
sighing.  "And  she  really  is  a  good 
girl" 

"I  suppose,  as  usual,  she  complains  of 
me ! ' '  The  voice  was  that  of  an  injured 
man. 

"Yes,  dear,  she  does!  They  all  do. 
You  give  them  a  lot  of  extra  work  al- 
ready, and  all  these  things  you  have  been 
buying  lately  —  oh,  Arthur,  if  you 
wouldn't  buy  things! — mean  more  work. 
You  know  that  copper  coal-scuttle  you 
sent  in  yesterday?" 

"Well,  isn't  it  a  beauty? — a  real 
Georgian  piece!"  cried  Meadows,  indig- 
nantly. 

"I  dare  say  it  is.    But  it  has  to  be 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS          13 

cleaned.  When  it  arrived  Jane  came  to 
see  me  in  this  room,  shut  the  door,  and 
put  her  back  against  it.  ' There's  an- 
other of  them  beastly  copper  coal-scuttles 
come!'  You  should  have  seen  her  eyes 
blazing.  'And  I  should  like  to  know, 
ma'am,  who's  going  to  clean  it — 'cos  I 
can't. '  And  I  just  had  to  promise  her  it 
might  go  dirty. ' ' 

"Lazy  minx!"  said  Meadows,  good- 
humouredly,  with  his  mouth  full  of  tea- 
cake.  "At  last  I  have  something  good 
to  look  at  in  this  room."  He  turned  his 
eyes  caressingly  towards  the  new  coal- 
scuttle. * '  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  clean 
it  myself ! ' ' 

Doris  laughed  again — this  time  almost 
hysterically — but  was  checked  by  a  fresh 
entrance  of  Jane,  who,  with  an  air  of  de- 
fiance, deposited  a  heavy  parcel  on  a 
chair  beside  her  mistress,  and  flounced 
out  again. 

"What  is  this?"  said  Doris  in  conster- 
nation. "Books?  More  books?  Heav- 


14  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

ens,  Arthur,  what  have  you  been  order- 
ing now !  I  couldn't  sleep  last  night  for 
thinking  of  the  book-bills. ' ' 

"You  little  goose!  Of  course,  I  must 
buy  books!  Aren't  they  my  tools,  my 
stock-in-trade?  Haven't  these  lectures 
justified  the  book-bills  a  dozen  times 
over?" 

This  time  Arthur  Meadows  surveyed 
his  wife  in  real  irritation  and  disgust. 

"But,  Arthur! — you  could  get  them  all 
at  the  London  Library — you  know  you 
could!" 

"And  pray  how  much  time  do  I  waste 
in  going  backwards  and  forwards  after 
books?  Any  man  of  letters  worth  his 
salt  wants  a  library  of  his  own — within 
reach  of  his  hand." 

' '  Yes,  if  he  can  pay  for  it ! "  said  Doris, 
with  plaintive  emphasis,  as  she  ruefully 
turned  over  the  costly  volumes  which  the 
parcel  contained. 

"Don't  fash  yourself,  my  dear  child! 
Why,  what  I'm  getting  for  the  Dizzy  lee- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  15 

ture  is  alone  nearly  enough  to  pay  all  the 
book  bills. " 

"It  isn't!  And  just  think  of  all  the 
others !  Well — never  mind ! ' ' 

Doris's  protesting  mood  suddenly  col- 
lapsed. She  sat  down  on  a  stool  beside 
her  husband,  rested  her  elbow  on  his 
knee,  and,  chin  in  hand,  surveyed  him 
with  a  softened  countenance.  Doris 
Meadows  was  not  a  beauty;  only  pleas- 
ant-faced, with  good  eyes,  and  a  strong, 
expressive  mouth.  Her  brown  hair  was 
perhaps  her  chief  point,  and  she  wore  it 
rippled  and  coiled  so  as  to  set  off  a 
shapely  head  and  neck.  It  was  always  a 
secret  grievance  with  her  that  she  had  so 
little  positive  beauty.  And  her  husband 
had  never  flattered  her  on  the  subject. 
In  the  early  days  of  their  marriage  she 
had  timidly  asked  him,  after  one  of  their 
bridal  dinner-parties  in  which  she  had 
worn  her  wedding-dress — "Did  I  look 
nice  to-night?  Do  you — do  you  ever 
think  I  look  pretty,  Arthur?"  And  he 


16  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

had  looked  her  over,  with  an  odd  change 
of  expression — careless  affection  passing 
into  something  critical  and  cool: — "I'm 
never  ashamed  of  you,  Doris,  in  any  com- 
pany. Won't  you  be  satisfied  with 
that  ? ' '  She  had  been  far  from  satisfied ; 
the  phrase  had  burnt  in  her  memory 
from  then  till  now.  But  she  knew  Ar- 
thur had  not  meant  to  hurt  her,  and  she 
bore  him  no  grudge.  And,  by  now,  she 
was  too  well  acquainted  with  the  rubs 
and  prose  of  life,  too  much  occupied  with 
house-books,  and  rough  servants,  and  the 
terror  of  an  overdrawn  account,  to  have 
any  time  or  thought  to  spare  to  her  own 
looks.  Fortunately  she  had  an  instinc- 
tive love  for  neatness  and  delicacy;  so 
that  her  little  figure,  besides  being  agile 
and  vigorous — capable  of  much  dignity 
too  on  occasion — was  of  a  singular  trim- 
ness  and  grace  in  all  its  simple  appoint- 
ments. Her  trousseau  was  long  since  ex- 
hausted, and  she  rarely  had  a  new  dress. 
But  slovenly  she  could  not  be. 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  17 

It  was  the  matter  of  a  new  dress  which 
was  now  indeed  running  in  her  mind. 
She  took  up  Lady  Dunstable's  letter,  and 
read  it  pensively  through  again. 

"You  can  accept  for  yourself,  Arthur, 
of  course,"  she  said,  looking  up.  "But 
I  can't  possibly  go." 

Meadows  protested  loudly. 

"You  have  no  excuse  at  all!"  he  de- 
clared hotly.  "Lady  Dunstable  has 
given  us  a  month's  notice.  You  can't 
get  out  of  it.  Do  you  want  me  to  be 
known  as  a  man  who  accepts  smart  in- 
vitations without  his  wife!  There  is  no 
more  caddish  creature  in  the  world." 

Doris  could  not  help  smiling  upon  him. 
But  her  mouth  was  none  the  less  deter- 
mined. 

"I  haven't  got  a  single  frock  that's  fit 
for  Crosby  Ledgers.  And  I'm  not  going 
on  tick  for  a  new  one ! ' ' 

"I  never  heard  anything  so  absurd! 
Shan't  we  have  more  money  in  a  few 
weeks  than  we've  had  for  years?" 


18  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

"I  dare  say.  It's  all  wanted.  Be- 
sides, I  have  my  work  to  finish. ' ' 

"My  dear  Doris!" 

A  slight  red  mounted  in  Doris's 
cheeks. 

"Oh,  you  may  be  as  scornful  as  you 
like !  But  ten  pounds  is  ten  pounds,  and 
I  like  keeping  engagements. ' ' 

The  "work"  in  question  meant  illus- 
trations for  a  children's  book.  Doris 
had  accepted  the  commission  with  eager- 
ness, and  had  been  going  regularly  to  the 
Campden  Hill  studio  of  an  Academician 
— her  mother's  brother — who  was  glad 
to  supply  her  with  some  of  the  "proper- 
ties" she  wanted  for  her  drawings. 

"I  shall  soon  not  allow  you  to  do  any- 
thing of  the  kind,"  said  Meadows  with 
decision. 

"On  the  contrary!  I  shall  always 
take  paid  work  when  I  can  get  it,"  was 
the  firm  reply — "unless " 

"Unless  what?" 

' '  You  know, ' '  she  said  quietly.    Mead- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  19 

ows  was  silent  a  moment,  then  reached 
out  for  her  hand,  which  she  gave  him. 
They  had  no  children;  and,  as  he  well 
knew,  Doris  pined  for  them.  The  look 
in  her  eyes  when  she  nursed  her  friends' 
babies  had  often  hurt  him.  But  after  all, 
why  despair?  It  was  only  four  years 
from  their  wedding  day. 

But  he  was  not  going  to  be  beaten  in 
the  matter  of  Crosby  Ledgers.  They 
had  a  long  and  heated  discussion,  at  the 
end  of  which  Doris  surrendered. 

"Very  well!  I  shall  have  to  spend  a 
week  in  doing  up  my  old  black  gown,  and 
it  will  be  a  botch  at  the  end  of  it.  But — 
nothing — will  induce  me — to  get  a  new 
one ! ' ' 

She  delivered  this  ultimatum  with  her 
hands  behind  her,  a  defeated,  but  still 
resolute  young  person.  Meadows,  hav- 
ing won  the  main  battle,  left  the  rest  to 
Providence,  and  went  off  to  his  "den"  to 
read  all  his  letters  through  once  more — 
agreeable  task! — and  to  write  a  note  of 


20          A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

acceptance  to  the  Home  Secretary,  who 
had  asked  him  to  luncheon.  Doris  was 
not  included  in  the  invitation.  "But 
anybody  may  ask  a  husband — or  a  wife 
— to  lunch,  separately.  That's  under- 
stood. I  shan't  do  it  often,  however — 
that  I  can  tell  them!"  And  justified  by 
this  Spartan  temper  as  to  the  future,  he 
wrote  a  charming  note,  accepting  the  de- 
lights of  the  present,  so  full  of  epigram 
that  the  Cabinet  Minister  to  whom  it  was 
addressed  had  no  sooner  read  it  than  he 
consigned  it  instanter  to  his  wife's  col- 
lection of  autographs. 

Meanwhile  Doris  was  occupied  partly 
in  soothing  the  injured  feelings  of  Jane, 
and  partly  in  smoothing  out  and  inspect- 
ing her  one  evening  frock.  She  decided 
that  it  would  take  her  a  week  to  "do  it 
up,"  and  that  she  would  do  it  herself. 
"A  week  wasted!"  she  thought — "and 
all  for  nothing.  What  do  we  want  with 
Lady  Dunstable!  She'll  flatter  Arthur, 
and  make  him  lazy.  They  all  do !  And 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS          21 

I  Ve  no  use  for  her  at  all.  Maid  indeed ! 
Does  she  think  nobody  can  exist  without 
that  appendage?  How  I  should  like  to 
make  her  live  on  four  hundred  a  year, 
with  a  husband  that  will  spend  seven!" 
She  stood,  half  amused,  half  frown- 
ing, beside  the  bed  on  which  lay  her  one 
evening  frock.  But  the  frown  passed 
away,  effaced  by  an  expression  much 
softer  and  tenderer  than  anything  she 
had  allowed  Arthur  to  see  of  late.  Of 
course  she  delighted  in  Arthur's  success ; 
she  was  proud,  indeed,  through  and 
through.  Hadn't  she  always  known  that 
he  had  this  gift,  this  quick,  vivacious 
power  of  narrative,  this  genius — for  it 
was  something  like  it — for  literary  por- 
traiture? And  now  at  last  the  stimulus 
had  come — and  the  opportunity  with  it. 
Could  she  ever  forget  the  anxiety  of  the 
first  lecture — the  difficulty  she  had  had 
in  making  him  finish  it — his  careless,  un- 
business-like  management  of  the  whole 
affair?  But  then  had  come  the  burst  of 


22  A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

praise  and  popularity ;  and  Arthur  was  a 
new  man.  No  difficulty — or  scarcely — 
in  getting  him  to  work  since  then !  Ap- 
plause, so  new  and  intoxicating,  had 
lured  him  on,  as  she  had  been  wont  to 
lure  the  hlack  pony  of  her  childhood  with 
a  handful  of  sugar.  Yes,  her  Arthur 
was  a  genius ;  she  had  always  known  it. 
And  something  of  a  child  too — lazy,  wil- 
ful, and  sensuous — that,  too,  she  had 
known  for  some  time.  And  she  loved 
him  with  all  her  heart. 

"But  I  won't  have  him  spoilt  by 
those  fine  ladies!"  she  said  to  her- 
self, with  frowning  clear-sightedness. 
* '  They  make  a  perfect  fool  of  him.  Now, 
then,  I'd  better  write  to  Lady  Dunstable. 
Of  course  she  ought  to  have  written  to 
me!" 
'  So  she  sat  down  and  wrote : 

Dear  Lady  Dunstable, — We  have  much  pleasure 
in  accepting  your  kind  invitation,  and  I  will  let 
you  know  our  train  later.  I  have  no  maid,  so — 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  23 

But  at  this  point  Mrs.  Meadows,  struck 
by  a  sudden  idea,  threw  down  her  pen. 

" Heavens! — suppose  I  took  Jane? 
Somebody  told  me  the  other  day  that  no- 
body got  any  attention  at  Crosby  Led- 
gers without  a  maid.  And  it  might  bribe 
Jane  into  staying.  I  should  feel  a  horrid 
snob — but  it  would  be  rather  fun — espe- 
cially as  Lady  Dunstable  will  certainly 
be  immensely  surprised.  The  fare 
would  be  only  about  five  shillings — Jane 
would  get  her  food  for  two  days  at  the 
Dunstables'  expense — and  I  should  have 
a  friend.  I'll  do  it." 

So,  with  her  eyes  dancing,  Doris  tore 
up  her  note,  and  began  again : 

Dear  Lady  Dunstable, — We  have  much  pleasure 
in  accepting  your  kind  invitation,  and  I  will  let 
you  know  our  train  later.  As  you  kindly  permit 
me,  I  will  bring  a  maid. 

Yours  sincerely, 

DORIS  MEADOWS. 

The  month  which  elapsed  between 
Lady  Dunstable 's  invitation  and  the 


24          A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

Crosby  Ledgers  party  was  spent  by 
Doris  first  in  ' '  doing  up ' '  her  frock,  and 
then  in  taking  the  bloom  off  it  at  various 
dinner-parties  to  which  they  were  al- 
ready invited  as  the  "celebrities"  of  the 
moment;  in  making  Arthur's  wardrobe 
presentable ;  in  watching  over  the  tickets 
and  receipts  of  the  weekly  lectures;  in 
collecting  the  press  cuttings  about  them ; 
in  finishing  her  illustrations;  and  in  in- 
structing the  awe-struck  Jane,  now  per- 
fectly amenable,  in  the  mysteries  that 
would  be  expected  of  her. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Meadows  heard  va- 
rious accounts  from  artistic  and  literary 
friends  of  the  parties  at  Crosby  Ledgers. 
These  accounts  were  generally  prefaced 
by  the  laughing  remark,  "But  anything 
7  can  say  is  ancient  history.  Lady  Dun- 
stable  dropped  us  long  ago !" 

Anyway,  it  appeared  that  the  mistress 
of  Crosby  Ledgers  could  be  charming, 
and  could  also  be  exactly  the  reverse. 
She  was  a  creature  of  whims  and  did  pre- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  25 

cisely  as  she  pleased.  Everything  she 
did  apparently  was  acceptable  to  Lord 
Dunstable,  who  admired  her  blindly. 
But  in  one  point  at  least  she  was  a  disap- 
pointed woman.  Her  son,  an  unsatisfac- 
tory youth  of  two-and-twenty,  was  sel- 
dom to  be  seen  under  his  parents'  roof, 
and  it  was  rumoured  that  he  had  already 
given  them  a  great  deal  of  trouble. 

"The  dreadful  thing,  my  dear,  is  the 
games  they  play!"  said  the  wife  of  a 
dramatist,  whose  one  successful  piece 
had  been  followed  by  years  of  ill-fortune. 

"Games?"  said  Doris.  "Do  you 
mean  cards — for  money?" 

"Oh,  dear  no!  Intellectual  games. 
Bouts-rimes;  translations — Lady  Dun- 
stable  looks  out  the  bits  and  some  people 
think  the  words — beforehand;  para- 
graphs on  a  subject — in  a  particular 
style — Pater's,  or  Buskin's,  or  Carlyle's. 
Each  person  throws  two  slips  into  a  hat. 
On  one  you  write  the  subject,  on  another 
the  name  of  the  author  whose  style  is 


26  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

to  be  imitated.  Then  you  draw.  Of 
course  Lady  Dunstable  carries  off  all  the 
honours.  But  then  everybody  believes 
she  spends  all  the  mornings  preparing 
these  things.  She  never  comes  down  till 
nearly  lunch. ' ' 

' '  This  is  really  appalling ! ' '  said  Doris, 
with  round  eyes.  "I  have  forgotten 
everything  I  ever  knew." 

As  for  her  own  impressions  of  the 
great  lady,  she  had  only  seen  her  once  in 
the  semi-darkness  of  the  lecture-room, 
and  could  only  remember  a  long,  sallow 
face,  with  striking  black  eyes  and  a 
pointed  chin,  a  general  look  of  distinc- 
tion and  an  air  of  one  accustomed  to  the 
" chief  seat"  at  any  board — whether  the 
feasts  of  reason  or  those  of  a  more  or- 
dinary kind. 

As  the  days  went  on,  Doris,  for  all  her 
sturdy  self-reliance,  began  to  feel  a  little 
nervous  inwardly.  She  had  been  quite 
well-educated,  first  at  a  good  High 
School,  and  then  in  the  class-rooms  of  a 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  27 

provincial  University ;  and,  as  the  clever 
daughter  of  a  clever  doctor  in  large  prac- 
tice, she  had  always  been  in  touch  with 
the  intellectual  world,  especially  on  its 
scientific  side.  And  for  nearly  two  years 
before  her  marriage  she  had  been  a  stu- 
dent at  the  Slade  School.  But  since  her 
imprudent  love-match  with  a  literary 
man  had  plunged  her  into  the  practical 
work  of  a  small  household,  run  on  a 
scanty  and  precarious  income,  she  had 
been  obliged,  one  after  another,  to  let  the 
old  interests  go.  Except  the  drawing. 
That  was  good  enough  to  bring  her  a 
little  money,  as  an  illustrator,  designer 
of  Christmas  cards,  etc.;  and  she  filled 
most  of  her  spare  time  with  it. 

But  now  she  feverishly  looked  out 
some  of  her  old  books — Pater 's  "  Stud- 
ies, "  a  volume  of  Huxley's  Essays, 
"Shelley"  and  "Keats"  in  the  "Men  of 
Letters"  series.  She  borrowed  two  or 
three  of  the  political  biographies  with 
which  Arthur's  shelves  were  crowded, 


28  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

having  all  the  while,  however,  the  dispir- 
iting conviction  that  Lady  Dunstable  had 
been  dandled  on  the  knees  of  every  Eng- 
lish Prime  Minister  since  her  birth,  and 
had  been  the  blood  relation  of  all  of  them, 
except  perhaps  Mr.  GK,  whose  blood  no 
doubt  had  not  been  blue  enough  to  entitle 
him  to  the  privilege. 

However,  she  must  do  her  best.  She 
kept  these  feelings  and  preparations  en- 
tirely secret  from  Arthur,  and  she  saw 
the  day  of  the  visit  dawn  in  a  mood  of 
mingled  expectation  and  revolt. 


(CHAPTER  II 

IT  was  a  perfect  June  evening:  Doris 
was  seated  on  one  of  the  spreading 
lawns  of  Crosby  Ledgers, — a  low  Geor- 
gian house,  much  added  to  at  various 
times,  and  now  a  pleasant  medley  of  pil- 
lared verandahs,  tiled  roofs,  cupolas,  and 
dormer  windows,  apparently  unpretend- 
ing, but,  as  many  people  knew,  one  of  the 
most  luxurious  of  English  country 
houses. 

Lady  Dunstable,  in  a  flowing  dress  of 
lilac  crepe  and  a  large  black  hat,  had 
just  given  Mrs.  Meadows  a  second  cup  of 
tea,  and  was  clearly  doing  her  duty — and 
showing  it — to  a  guest  whose  entertain- 
ment could  not  be  trusted  to  go  of  itself. 
The  only  other  persons  at  the  tea-table — 
the  Meadowses  having  arrived  late — 
were  an  elderly  man  with  long  Dun- 

29 


30  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

dreary  whiskers,  in  a  Panama  hat  and  a 
white  waistcoat,  and  a  lady  of  uncer- 
tain age,  plump,  kind-eyed,  and  merry- 
mouthed,  in  whom  Doris  had  at  once  di- 
vined a  possible  harbour  of  refuge  from 
the  terrors  of  the  situation.  Arthur  was 
strolling  up  and  down  the  lawn  with  the 
Home  Secretary,  smoking  and  chatting 
— talking  indeed  nineteen  to  the  dozen, 
and  entirely  at  his  ease.  A  few  other 
groups  were  scattered  over  the  grass; 
while  girls  in  white  dresses  and  young 
men  in  flannels  were  playing  tennis  in 
the  distance.  A  lake  at  the  bottom  of 
the  sloping  garden  made  light  and  space 
in  a  landscape  otherwise  too  heavily 
walled  in  by  thick  woodland.  White 
swans  floated  on  the  lake,  and  the  June 
trees  beyond  were  in  their  freshest  and 
proudest  leaf.  A  church  tower  rose  ap- 
propriately in  a  corner  of  the  park,  and 
on  the  other  side  of  the  deer-fence  be- 
yond the  lake  a  herd  of  red  deer  were 
feeding.  Doris  could  not  help  feeling  as 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS  31 

though  the  whole  scene  had  been  lately 
painted  for  a  new  "high  life"  play  at 
the  St.  James's  Theatre,  and  she  half 
expected  to  see  Sir  George  Alexander 
walk  out  of  the  bushes. 

"I  suppose,  Mrs.  Meadows,  you  have 
been  helping  your  husband  with  his  lec- 
tures?" said  Lady  Dunstable,  a  little 
languidly,  as  though  the  heat  oppressed 
her.  She  was  making  play  with  a  cigar- 
ette and  her  half -shut  eyes  were  fixed  on 
the  "lion's"  wife.  The  eyes  fascinated 
Doris.  Surely  they  were  artificially 
blackened,  above  and  below?  And  the 
lips — had  art  been  delicately  invoked,  or 
was  Nature  alone  responsible? 

"I  copy  things  for  Arthur,"  said 
Doris.  ' ' Unfortunately,  I  can't  type. ' ' 

At  the  sound  of  the  young  and  musical 
voice,  the  gentleman  with  the  Dundreary 
whiskers — Sir  Luke  Malford — who  had 
seemed  half  asleep,  turned  sharply  to 
look  at  the  speaker.  Doris  too  was  in  a 
white  dress,  of  the  simplest  stuff  and 


32  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

make;  but  it  became  her.  So  did  the 
straw  hat,  with  its  wreath  of  wild  roses, 
which  she  had  trimmed  herself  that 
morning.  There  was  not  the  slightest 
visible  sign  of  tremor  in  the  young 
woman;  and  Sir  Luke's  inner  mind  ap- 
plauded her. 

"No  fool! — and  a  lady,"  he  thought. 
"Let's  see  what  Rachel  will  make  of 
her." 

"Then  you  don't  help  him  in  the  writ- 
ing?" said  Lady  Dunstable,  still  with  the 
same  detached  air.  Doris  laughed. 

"I  don't  know  what  Arthur  would  say 
if  I  proposed  it.  He  never  lets  anybody 
go  near  him  when  he's  writing." 

"I  see;  like  all  geniuses,  he's  danger- 
ous on  the  loose."  Was  Lady  Dunsta- 
ble's  smile  just  touched  with  sarcasm! 
"Well! — has  the  success  of  the  lectures 
surprised  you?" 

Doris  pondered. 

' '  No, ' '  she  said  at  last, '  *  not  really.  I 
always  thought  Arthur  had  it  in  him." 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  33 

"But  you  hardly  expected  such  a  run 
— such  an  excitement?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Doris,  coolly. 
"I  think  I  did — sometimes.  The  ques- 
tion is  how  long  it  will  last. ' ' 

She  looked,  smiling,  at  her  interroga- 
tor. 

The  gentleman  with  the  whiskers 
stooped  across  the  table. 

"Oh,  nothing  lasts  in  this  world. 
But  that  of  course  is  what  makes  a  good 
time  so  good." 

Doris  turned  towards  him — demurring 
— for  the  sake  of  conversation.  "I 
never  could  understand  how  Cinderella 
enjoyed  the  ball." 

"For  thinking  of  the  clock?"  laughed 
Sir  Luke.  "No,  no! — you' can't  mean 
that.  It's  the  expectation  of  the  clock 
that  doubles  the  pleasure.  Of  course 
you  agree,  Rachel!" — he  turned  to  her — 
"else  why  did  you  read  me  that  very 
doleful  poem  yesterday,  on  this  very 
theme? — that  it's  only  the  certainty  of 


34  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

death  that  makes  life  agreeable?  By 
the  way,  George  Eliot  had  said  it  be- 
fore!" 

"The  poem  was  by  a  friend  of  mine,'* 
said  Lady  Dunstable,  coldly.  "I  read  it 
to  you  to  see  how  it  sounded.  But  I 
thought  it  poor  stuff. ' ' 

* '  How  unkind  of  you !  The  man  who 
wrote  it  says  he  lives  upon  your  friend- 
ship." 

"That,  perhaps,  is  why  he's  so  thin." 

Sir  Luke  laughed  again. 

"To  be  sure,  I  saw  the  poor  man — 
after  you  had  talked  to  him  the  other 
night — going  to  Dunstable  to  be  consoled. 
Poor  George!  he's  always  healing  the 
wounds  you  make." 

"Of  course.  That's  why  I  married 
him.  George  says  all  the  civil  things. 
That  sets  me  free  to  do  the  rude  ones." 

"Rachel!"  The  exclamation  came 
from  the  plump  lady  opposite,  who  was 
smiling  broadly,  and  showing  some  very 
white  teeth.  A  signal  passed  from  her 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  35 

eyes  to  those  of  Doris,  as  though  to  say 
" Don't  be  alarmed!" 

But  Doris  was  not  at  all  alarmed.  She 
was  eagerly  watching  Lady  Dunstable, 
as  one  watches  for  the  mannerisms  of 
some  well-known  performer.  Sir  Luke 
perceived  it,  and  immediately  began  to 
show  off  his  hostess  by  one  of  the  spar- 
ring matches  that  were  apparently  fre- 
quent between  them.  They  fell  to  dis- 
cussing a  party  of  guests — landowners 
from  a  neighbouring  estate — who  seemed 
to  have  paid  a  visit  to  Crosby  Ledgers 
the  day  before.  Lady  Dunstable  had  not 
enjoyed  them,  and  her  tongue  on  the  sub- 
ject was  sharpness  itself,  restrained  by 
none  of  the  ordinary  compunctions.  *  *  Is 
this  how  she  talks  about  all  her  guests — 
on  Monday  morning?"  thought  Doris, 
with  quickened  pulse  as  the  biting  sen- 
tences flew  about. 

...  "Mr.  Worthing?  Why  did  he 
marry  her?  Oh,  because  he  wanted  a 
stuffed  goose  to  sit  by  the  fire  while  he 


36  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

went  out  and  amused  himself.  .  .  .  Why 
did  she  marry  him?  Ah,  that's  more 
difficult  to  answer.  Is  one  obliged  to 
credit  Mrs.  Worthing  with  any  reasons 
— on  any  subject?  However,  I  like  Mr. 
Worthing — he's  what  men  ought  to  be." 

"And  that  is — ?"  Doris  ventured  to 
put  in. 

"Just — men,"  said  Lady  Dunstable, 
shortly. 

Sir  Luke  laughed  over  his  cigarette. 

"That  you  may  fool  them?  Well, 
Rachel,  all  the  same,  you  would  die  of 
Worthing 's  company  in  a  month." 

"I  shouldn't  die,"  said  Lady  Dun- 
stable,  quietly.  ' '  I  should  murder. ' ' 

"Hullo,  what's  my  wife  talking 
about?"  said  a  bluff  and  friendly  voice. 
Doris  looked  up  to  see  a  handsome  man 
with  grizzled  hair  approaching. 

"Mrs.  Meadows?  How  do  you  do? 
What  a  beautiful  evening  you've 
brought !  Your  husband  and  I  have  been 
having  a  jolly  talk.  My  word! — he's  a 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  37 

clever  chap.  Let  me  congratulate  you 
on  the  lectures.  Biggest  success  known 
in  recent  days  I" 

Doris  beamed  upon  her  host,  well 
pleased,  and  he  settled  down  beside  her, 
doing  his  kind  best  to  entertain  her.  In 
him,  all  those  protective  feelings  towards 
a  stranger,  in  which  his  wife  appeared  to 
be  conspicuously  lacking,  were  to  be  dis- 
cerned on  first  acquaintance.  Doris  was 
practically  sure  that  his  inner  mind  was 
thinking— ,"  Poor  little  thing! — knows 
nobody  here.  Rachel's  been  scaring  her. 
Must  look  after  her!" 

And  look  after  her  he  did.  He  was  by 
no  means  an  amusing  companion.  Lazy, 
gentle,  and  ineffective,  Doris  quickly 
perceived  that  he  was  entirely  eclipsed 
by  his  wife,  who,  now  that  she  was  re- 
lieved of  Mrs.  Meadows,  was  soon  sur- 
rounded by  a  congenial  company — the 
Home  Secretary,  one  or  two  other  poli- 
ticians, the  old  General,  a  literary  Dean, 
Lord  Staines,  a  great  racing  man,  Ar- 


38  A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

thur  Meadows,  and  one  or  two  more. 
The  talk  became  almost  entirely  political 
— with  a  dash  of  literature.  Doris  saw 
at  once  that  Lady  Dunstable  was  the 
centre  of  it,  and  she  was  not  long  in 
guessing  that  it  was  for  this  kind  of  talk 
that  people  came  to  Crosby  Ledgers. 
Lady  Dunstable,  it  seemed,  was  capable 
of  talking  like  a  man  with  men,  and  like 
a  man  of  affairs  with  the  men  of  affairs. 
Her  political  knowledge  was  astonishing ; 
so,  evidently,  was  her  background  of  fam- 
ily and  tradition,  interwoven  throughout 
with  English  political  history.  English 
statesmen  had  not  only  dandled  her,  they 
had  taught  her,  walked  with  her,  writ- 
ten to  her,  and — no  doubt — flirted  with 
her.  Doris,  as  she  listened  to  her,  dis- 
liked her  heartily,  and  at  the  same  time 
could  not  help  being  thrilled  by  so  much 
knowledge,  so  much  contact  with  history 
in  the  making,  and  by  such  a  masterful 
way,  in  a  woman,  with  the  great  ones  of 
the  earth.  "What  a  worm  she  must 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  39 

think  me!"  thought  Doris — "what  a 
worm  she  does  think  me — and  the  likes  of 
me!" 

At  the  same  time,  the  spectator  must 
needs  admit  there  was  something  else 
in  Lady  Dunstable's  talk  than  mere  in- 
telligence or  mere  mannishness.  There 
was  undoubtedly  something  of  "the  good 
fellow,"  and,  through  all  her  hard  hit- 
ting, a  curious  absence — in  conversation 
— of  the  personal  egotism  she  was  quite 
ready  to  show  in  all  the  trifles  of  life. 
On  the  present  occasion  her  main  ob- 
ject clearly  was  to  bring  out  Arthur 
Meadows — the  new  captive  of  her  bow 
and  spear ;  to  find  out  what  was  in  him ; 
to  see  if  he  was  worthy  of  her  inner  cir- 
cle. Throwing  all  compliment  aside,  she 
attacked  him  hotly  on  certain  statements 
— certain  estimates — in  his  lectures. 
Her  knowledge  was  personal ;  the  knowl- 
edge of  one  whose  father  had  sat  in 
Dizzy's  latest  Cabinet,  while,  through  the 
endless  cousinship  of  the  English  landed 


40  A  GBEAT  SUCCESS 

families,  she  was  as  much  related  to  the 
Whig  as  to  the  Tory  leaders  of  the  past. 
She  talked  familiarly  of  " Uncle  This" 
or  "Cousin  That,"  who  had  been  ap- 
parently the  idols  of  her  nursery  before 
they  had  become  the  heroes  of  England ; 
and  Meadows  had  much  ado  to  defend 
himself  against  her  store  of  anecdote 
and  reminiscence.  "Unfair!"  thought 
Doris,  breathlessly  watching  the  contest 
of  wits.  "Oh,  if  she  weren't  a  woman, 
Arthur  could  easily  beat  her ! ' ' 

But  she  was  a  woman,  and  not  at  all 
unwilling,  when  hard  pressed,  to  take 
advantage  of  that  fact. 

All  the  same,  Meadows  was  stirred  to 
most  unwonted  efforts.  He  proved  to  be 
an  antagonist  worth  her  steel;  and 
Doris's  heart  swelled  with  secret  pride 
as  she  saw  how  all  the  other  voices  died 
down,  how  more  and  more  people  came 
up  to  listen,  even  the  young  men  and 
maidens, — throwing  themselves  on  the 
grass,  around  the  two  disputants. 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  41 

Finally  Lady  Dunstable  carried  off  the 
honours.  Had  she  not  seen  Lord  Bea- 
consfield  twice  during  the  fatal  week  of 
his  last  general  election,  when  England 
turned  against  him,  when  his  great  rival 
triumphed,  and  all  was  lost?  Had  he 
not  talked  to  her,  as  great  men  will  talk 
to  the  young  and  charming  women  whose 
flatteries  soften  their  defeats;  so  that, 
from  the  wings,  she  had  seen  almost  the 
last  of  that  well-graced  actor,  caught  his 
last  gestures  and  some  of  his  last  words  I 
"Brava,  brava!"  said  Meadows,  when 
the  story  ceased,  although  it  had  been  in- 
tended to  upset  one  of  his  own  most 
brilliant  generalisations ;  and  a  sound  of 
clapping  hands  went  round  the  circle. 
Lady  Dunstable,  a  little  flushed  and  pant- 
ing, smiled  and  was  silent.  Meadows, 
meanwhile,  was  thinking — "How  often 
has  she  told  that  tale?  She  has  it  by 
heart.  Every  touch  in  it  has  been  sharp- 
ened a  dozen  times.  All  the  same — a 
wonderful  performance ! ' ' 


42 

Lord  Dunstable,  meanwhile,  sat  abso- 
lutely silent,  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his 
head,  his  attention  fixed  on  his  wife.  rAs 
the  group  broke  up,  and  the  chairs  were 
pushed  back,  he  said  in  Doris's  ear — 
" Isn't  she  an  awfully  clever  woman,  my 
wife?" 

Before  Doris  could  answer,  she  heard 
Lady  Dunstable  carelessly — but  none  the 
less  peremptorily — inviting  her  women 
guests  to  see  their  rooms.  Doris  walked 
by  her  hostess 's  side  towards  the  house. 
Every  trace  of  animation  and  charm  had 
now  vanished  from  that  lady's  manner. 
She  was  as  languid  and  monosyllabic  as 
before,  and  Doris  could  only  feel  once 
again  that  while  her  clever  husband  was 
an  eagerly  welcomed  guest,  she  herself 
could  only  expect  to  reckon  as  his  appen- 
dage— a  piece  of  family  luggage. 

Lady  Dunstable  threw  open  the  door 
of  a  spacious  bedroom.  "No  doubt  you 
will  wish  to  rest  till  dinner,"  she  said, 
severely.  "And  of  course  your  maid 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS  43 

\ 
will  ask  for  what  she  wants."    At  the 

word  "maid,"  did  Doris  dream  it,  or  was 
there  a  satiric  gleam  in  the  hard  black 
eyes?  " Pretender,"  it  seemed  to  say 
— and  Doris's  conscience  admitted  the 
charge. 

And  indeed  the  door  had  no  sooner 
closed  on  Lady  Dunstable  before  an  agi- 
tated knock  announced  Jane — in  tears. 

She  stood  opposite  her  mistress  in  des- 
peration. 

" Please,  ma'am — I'll  have  to  have  an 
evening  dress — or  I  can't  go  in  to  sup- 
per!" 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean?"  said 
Doris,  staring  at  her. 

"Every  maid  in  this  'ouse,  ma'am,  'as 
got  to  dress  for  supper.  The  maids  go 
in  the  'ousekeeper's  room,  an'  they've 
all  on  'em  got  dresses  V-shaped,  or  cut 
square,  or  something.  This  black  dress, 
ma'am,  won't  do  at  all.  So  I  can't  have 
no  supper.  I  couldn't  dream,  ma'am,  of 
goin'  in  different  to  the  others !" 


44  A  GKEAT  SUCCESS 

"You  silly  creature!"  said  Doris, 
springing  up.  "Look  here — I'll  lend 
you  my  spare  blouse.  You  can  turn  it 
in  at  the  neck,  and  wear  my  white  scarf. 
You'll  be  as  smart  as  any  of  them!" 

And  half  laughing,  half  compassion- 
ate, she  pulled  her  blouse  out  of  the  box, 
adjusted  the  white  scarf  to  it  herself, 
and  sent  the  bewildered  Jane  about  her 
business,  after  having  shown  her  first 
how  to  unpack  her  mistress's  modest  be- 
longings, and  strictly  charged  her  to  re- 
turn half  an  hour  before  dinner.  "Of 
course  I  shall  dress  myself, — but  you 
may  as  well  have  a  lesson." 

The  girl  went,  and  Doris  was  left 
stormily  wondering  why  she  had  been 
such  a  fool  as  to  bring  her.  Then  her 
sense  of  humour  conquered,  and  her  brow 
cleared.  She  went  to  the  open  window 
and  stood  looking  over  the  park  beyond. 
Sunset  lay  broad  and  rich  over  the  wide 
stretches  of  grass,  and  on  the  splendid 
oaks  lifting  their  dazzling  leaf  to  the 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  45 

purest  of  skies.  The  roses  in  the  garden 
sent  up  their  scent,  there  was  a  plashing 
of  water  from  an  invisible  fountain,  and 
the  deer  beyond  the  fence  wandered  in 
and  out  of  the  broad  bands  of  shadow 
drawn  across  the  park.  Doris's  young 
feet  fidgeted  under  her.  She  longed  to 
be  out  exploring  the  woods  and  the  lake. 
"Why  was  she  immured  in  this  stupid 
room,  to  which  Lady  Dunstable  had  con- 
ducted her  with  a  chill  politeness  which 
had  said  plainly  enough  "Here  you  are 
— and  here  you  stay! — till  dinner !" 

4 'If  I  could  only  find  a  back-staircase," 
she  thought,  "I  would  soon  be  enjoying 
myself!  Arthur,  lucky  wretch,  said 
something  about  playing  golf.  No! — 
there  he  is ! " 

And  sure  enough,  on  the  farthest  edge 
of  the  lawn  going  towards  the  park,  she 
saw  two  figures  walking — Lady  Dun- 
stable  and  Arthur!  "Deep  in  talk  of 
course — having  the  best  of  times — while 
I  am  shut  up  here — half -past  six ! — on  a 


46  A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

glorious  evening ! ' '  The  reflection,  how- 
ever, was,  on  the  whole,  good-humoured. 
She  did  not  feel,  as  yet,  either  jealous  or 
tragic.  Some  day,  she  supposed,  if  it 
was  to  be  her  lot  to  visit  country  houses, 
she  would  get  used  to  their  ways.  For 
Arthur,  of  course,  it  was  useful — per- 
haps necessary — to  be  put  through  his 
paces  by  a  woman  like  Lady  Dunstable. 
*  *  And  he  can  hold  his  own.  But  for  me  I 
I  contribute  nothing.  I  don't  belong  to 
them — they  don't  want  me — and  what 
use  have  I  for  them?" 

Her  meditations,  however,  were  here 
interrupted  by  a  knock.  On  her  saying 
"Come  in" — the  door  opened  cautiously 
to  admit  the  face  of  the  substantial  lady, 
Miss  Field,  to  whom  Doris  had  been  in- 
troduced at  the  tea-table. 

"Are  you  resting?"  said  Miss  Field, 
"or  only  'interned'?" 

"Oh,  please  come  in!"  cried  Doris. 
"I  never  was  less  tired  in  my  life." 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS          47 

Miss  Field  entered,  and  took  the  arm- 
chair that  Doris  offered  her,  fronting  the 
open  window  and  the  summer  scene. 
Her  face  would  have  suited  the  Muse  of 
Mirth,  if  any  Muse  is  ever  forty  years  of 
age.  The  small,  up-turned  nose  and  full 
red  lips  were  always  smiling ;  so  were  the 
eyes ;  and  the  fair  skin  and  still  golden 
hair,  the  plump  figure  and  gay  dress  of 
flower-sprigged  muslin,  were  all  in  keep- 
ing with  the  part. 

"You  have  never  seen  my  cousin  be- 
fore?" she  inquired. 

"Lady  Dunstable?  Is  she  your  cous- 
in?" 

Miss  Field  nodded.  "My  first  cousin. 
And  I  spend  a  great  part  of  the  year 
here,  helping  in  different  ways.  Rachel 
can't  do  without  me  now,  so  I'm  able  to 
keep  her  in  order.  Don't  ever  be  shy 
with  her!  Don't  ever  let  her  think  she 
frightens  you ! — those  are  the  two  indis- 
pensable rules  here." 


48  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

"I'm  afraid  I  should  break  them," 
said  Doris,  slowly.  "She  does  frighten 
me — horribly  I " 

"Ah,  well,  you  didn't  show  it— that's 
the  chief  thing.  You  know  she's  a  much 
more  human  creature  than  she  seems." 

"Is  she?"  Doris's  eyes  pursued  the 
two  distant  figures  in  the  park. 

"You'd  think,  for  instance,  that  Lord 
Dunstable  was  just  a  cipher?  Not  at  all. 
He's  the  real  authority  here,  and  when 
he  puts  his  foot  down  Eachel  always 
gives  in.  But  of  course  she's  stood  in 
the  way  of  his  career." 

Doris  shrank  a  little  from  these  indis- 
cretions. But  she  could  not  keep  her 
curiosity  out  of  her  eyes,  and  Miss  Field 
smilingly  answered  it. 

"She's  absorbed  him  so!  You  see  he 
watches  her  all  the  time.  She's  like  an 
endless  play  to  him.  He  really  doesn't 
care  for  anything  else — he  doesn't  want 
anything  else.  Of  course  they're  very 
rich.  But  he  might  have  done  something 


A  GBEAT  SUCCESS  49 

in  politics,  if  she  hadn't  been  so  much 
more  important  than  he.  And  then, 
naturally,  she's  made  enemies — power- 
ful enemies.  Her  friends  come  here  of 
course — her  old  cronies — the  people  who 
can  put  up  with  her.  They  're  devoted  to 
her.  And  the  young  people — the  very 
modern  ones — who  think  nice  manners 
'early  Victorian,'  and  like  her  rudeness 
for  the  sake  of  her  cleverness.  But  the 
rest ! — What  do  you  think  she  did  at  one 
of  these  parties  last  year?" 

Doris  could  not  help  wishing  to  know. 

"She  took  a  fancy  to  ask  a  girl  near 
here — the  daughter  of  a  clergyman,  a 
great  friend  of  Lord  Dunstable's,  to 
come  over  for  the  Sunday.  Lord  Dun- 
stable  had  talked  of  the  girl,  and 
Rachel's  always  on  the  look-out  for  clev- 
erness ;  she  hunts  it  like  a  hound !  She 
met  the  young  woman  too  somewhere, 
and  got  the  impression — I  can't  say  how 
— that  she  would  'go.'  So  on  the  Satur- 
day morning  she  went  over  in  her  pony- 


50  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

carriage — broke  in  on  the  little  Rectory 
like  a  hurricane — of  course  you  know  the 
people  about  here  regard  her  as  some- 
thing semi-divine ! — and  told  the  girl  she 
had  come  to  take  her  back  to  Crosby 
Ledgers  for  the  Sunday.  So  the  poor 
child  packed  up,  all  in  a  flutter,  and  they 
set  off  together  in  the  pony-carriage — 
six  miles.  And  by  the  time  they  had 
gone  four  Rachel  had  discovered  she 
had  made  a  mistake — that  the  girl 
wasn't  clever,  and  would  add  nothing  to 
the  party.  So  she  quietly  told  her  that 
she  was  afraid,  after  all,  the  party 
wouldn't  suit  her.  And  then  she  turned 
the  pony's  head,  and  drove  her  straight 
home  again!" 

"Oh !"  cried  Doris,  her  cheeks  red,  her 
eyes  aflame. 

"Brutal,  wasn't  it?"  said  the  other. 
"All  the  same,  there  are  fine  things  in 
Rachel.  And  in  one  point  she's  the  most 
vulnerable  of  women!" 

"Her  son?"  Doris  ventured. 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  51 

Miss  Field  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"He  doesn't  drink — he  doesn't  gam- 
ble— he  doesn't  spend  money — he  doesn't 
run  away  with  other  people's  wives. 
He's  just  nothing! — just  incurably 
empty  and  idle.  He  comes  here  very 
little.  His  mother  terrifies  him.  And 
since  he  was  twenty-one  he  has  a  little 
money  of  his  own.  He  hangs  about  in 
studios  and  theatres.  His  mother 
doesn't  know  any  of  his  friends.  What 
she  suffers — poor  Rachel!  She'd  have 
given  everything  in  the  world  for  a  bril- 
liant son.  But  you  can't  wonder. 
She's  like  some  strong  plant  that  takes 
all  the  nourishment  out  of  the  ground,  so 
that  the  plants  near  it  starve.  She  can't 
help  it.  She  doesn't  mean  to  be  a  vam- 
pire ! ' ' 

Doris  hardly  knew  what  to  say. 
Somehow  she  wished  the  vampire  were 
not  walking  with  Arthur!  That,  how- 
ever, was  not  a  sentiment  easily  com- 
municable; and  she  was  just  turning  it 


52  A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

into  something  else  when  Miss  Field  said 
— abruptly,  like  someone  coming  to  the 
real  point — 

"Does  your  husband  like  her?" 

"Why  yes,  of  course !"  stammered 
Doris.  "She's  been  awfully  kind  to  us 
about  the  lectures,  and — he  loves  argu- 
ing with  her." 

"She  loves  arguing  with  him!"  said 
Miss  Field  triumphantly.  "She  lives 
just  for  such  half -hours  as  that  she  gave 
us  on  the  lawn  after  tea — and  all  owing 
to  him — he  was  so  inspiring,  so  stimulat- 
ing. Oh,  you'll  see,  she'll  take  you  up 
tremendously — if  you  want  to  be  taken 
up!" 

The  smiling  blue  eyes  looked  gaily  into 
Doris 's  puzzled  countenance.  Evidently 
the  speaker  was  much  amused  by  the 
Meadowses*  situation — more  amused 
than  her  sense  of  politeness  allowed  her 
to  explain.  Doris  was  conscious  of  a 
vague  resentment. 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  see  what  Lady 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS  53 

Dunstable  will  get  out  of  me,"  she  said, 
drily. 

Miss  Field  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"Are  you  going  then  to  let  him  come 
here  alone?  She'll  be  always  asking 
you!  Oh,  you  needn't  be  afraid — "  and 
this  most  candid  of  cousins  laughed 
aloud.  "Rachel  isn't  a  flirt — except  of 
the  intellectual  kind.  But  she  takes  pos- 
session— she  sticks  like  a  limpet." 

There  was  a  pause.  Then  Miss  Field 
added : 

"You  mustn't  think  it  odd  that  I  say 
these  things  about  Eachel.  I  have  to  ex- 
plain her  to  people.  She's  not  like  any- 
body else." 

Doris  did  not  quite  see  the  necessity, 
but  she  kept  the  reflection  to  herself,  and 
Miss  Field  passed  lightly  to  the  other 
guests — Sir  Luke,  a  tame  cat  of  the 
house,  who  quarrelled  with  Lady  Dun- 
stable  once  a  month,  vowed  he  would 
never  come  near  her  again,  and  always 
reappeared ;  the  Dean,  who  in  return  for 


54  A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

a  general  submission,  was  allowed  to 
scold  her  occasionally  for  her  soul's 
health;  the  politicians  whom  she  could 
not  do  without,  who  were  therefore 
handled  more  gingerly  than  the  rest ;  the 
military  and  naval  men  who  loved  Dun- 
stable  and  put  up  with  his  wife  for  his 
sake;  and  the  young  people — nephews 
and  nieces  and  cousins — who  liked  an  un- 
conventional hostess  without  any  foolish 
notions  of  chaperonage,  and  always  en- 
joyed themselves  famously  at  Crosby 
Ledgers. 

"Now  then,"  said  Miss  Field,  rising 
at  last,  "I  think  you  have  the  carte  du 
pays — and  there  they  are,  coming  back. ' ' 
She  pointed  to  Meadows  and  Lady  Dun- 
stable,  crossing  the  lawn.  :<  Whatever 
you  do,  hold  your  own.  If  you  don't 
want  to  play  games,  don't  play  them. 
If  you  want  to  go  to  church  to-morrow, 
go  to  church.  Lady  Dunstable  of  course 
is  a  heathen.  And  now  perhaps,  you 
might  really  rest." 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS  55 

"Such  a  jolly  walk!"  said  Meadows, 
entering  his  wife's  room  flushed  with  ex- 
ercise and  pleasure.  "The  place  is  di- 
vine, and  really  Lady  Dunstable  is  un- 
commonly good  talk.  Hope  you  haven't 
been  dull,  dear?" 

Doris  replied,  laughing,  that  Miss 
Field  had  taken  pity  on  what  would 
otherwise  have  been  solitary  confine- 
ment, and  that  now  it  was  time  to  dress. 
Meadows  kissed  her  absently,  and,  with 
his  head  evidently  still  full  of  his  walk, 
went  to  his  dressing-room.  When  he  re- 
appeared, it  was  to  find  Doris  attired  in 
a  little  black  gown,  with  which  he  was 
already  too  familiar.  She  saw  at  once 
the  dissatisfaction  in  his  face. 

"I  can't  help  it!"  she  said,  with 
emphasis.  "I  did  my  best  with  it,  Ar- 
thur, but  I'm  not  a  genius  at  dressmak- 
ing. Never  mind.  Nobody  will  take 
any  notice  of  me. ' ' 

He  quite  crossly  rebuked  her.  She 
really  must  spend  more  on  her  dress. 


56  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

It  was  unseemly — absurd.  She  looked 
as  nice  as  anybody  when  she  was  prop- 
erly got  up. 

"Well,  don't  buy  any  more  copper 
coal-scuttles !>y  she  said  slyly,  as  she 
straightened  his  tie,  and  dropped  a  kiss 
on  his  chin.  ' '  Then  we  '11  see. ' ' 

They  went  down  to  dinner,  and  on  the 
staircase  Meadows  turned  to  say  to  his 
wife  in  a  lowered  voice: 

"Lady  Dunstable  wants  me  to  go  to 
them  in  Scotland — for  two  or  three 
weeks.  I  dare  say  I  could  do  some  work. ' ' 

"Oh,  does  she?"  said  Doris. 

What  perversity  drove  Lady  Dun- 
stable  during  the  evening  and  the  Sun- 
day that  followed  to  match  every  at- 
tention that  was  lavished  on  Arthur 
Meadows  by  some  slight  to  his  wife, 
will  never  be  known.  But  the  fact  was 
patent.  Throughout  the  diversions  or 
occupations  of  the  forty-eight  hours' 
visit,  Mrs.  Meadows  was  either  ignored, 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS          57 

snubbed,  or  contradicted.  Only  Arthur 
Meadows,  indeed,  measuring  himself 
with  delight,  for  the  first  time,  against 
some  of  the  keenest  brains  in  the  coun- 
try, failed  to  see  it.  His  blindness  al- 
lowed Lady  Dunstable  to  run  a  some- 
what dangerous  course,  unchecked.  She 
risked  alienating  a  man  whom  she  par- 
ticularly wished  to  attract ;  she  excited  a 
passion  of  antagonism  in  Doris's  gener- 
ally equable  breast,  and  was  quite  aware 
of  it.  Notwithstanding,  she  followed 
her  whim;  and  by  the  Sunday  evening 
there  existed  between  the  great  lady  and 
her  guest  a  state  of  veiled  war,  in  which 
the  strokes  were  by  no  means  always  to 
the  advantage  of  Lady  Dunstable. 

Doris,  for  instance,  with  other  guests, 
expressed  a  wish  to  attend  morning 
service  on  Sunday  at  a  famous  cathedral 
some  three  miles  away.  Lady  Dunsta- 
ble immediately  announced  that  every- 
body who  wished  to  go  to  church  would 
go  to  the  village  church  within  the  park, 


58 

for  which  alone  carriages  would  be  pro- 
vided. Then  Doris  and  Sir  Luke  com- 
bined, and  walked  to  the  cathedral,  three 
miles  there  and  three  miles  back — to 
the  huge  delight  of  the  other  and  more 
docile  guests.  Sunday  evening,  again, 
was  devastated  by  what  were  called 
"games"  at  Crosby  Ledgers.  "Gad,  if 
I  wouldn't  sooner  go  in  for  the  Indian 
Civil  again!"  said  Sir  Luke.  Doris, 
with  the  most  ingratiating  manner,  but 
quite  firmly,  begged  to  be  excused. 
Lady  Dunstable  bit  her  lip,  and  pres- 
ently, a  propos  de  bottes,  launched  some 
observations  on  the  need  of  co-operation 
in  society.  It  was  shirking — refusing  to 
take  a  hand,  to  do  one's  best — false 
shame,  indeed ! — that  ruined  English  so- 
ciety and  English  talk.  Let  everybody 
take  a  lesson  from  the  French!  After 
which  the  lists  were  opened,  so  to  speak, 
and  Lady  Dunstable,  Meadows,  the 
Dean,  and  about  half  the  young  people 
produced  elegant  pieces  of  translation, 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS  59 

astounding  copies  of  impromptu  verse, 
essays  in  all  the  leading  styles  of  the 
day,  and  riddles  by  the  score.  The 
Home  Secretary,  who  had  been  lassoed 
by  his  hostess,  escaped  towards  the  mid- 
dle of  the  ordeal,  and  wandered  sadly 
into  a  further  room  where  Doris  sat 
chatting  with  Lord  Dunstable.  He  was 
carrying  various  slips  of  paper  in  his 
hand,  and  asked  her  distractedly  if  she 
could  throw  any  light  on  the  question — 
"Why  is  Lord  Salisbury  like  a  poker !" 

"I  can't  think  of  anything  to  say,"  he 
said  helplessly,  "except  'because  they 
are  both  upright.*  And  here's  another 
— 'Why  is  the  Pope  like  a  thermometer?' 
I  did  see  some  light  on  that!"  His 
countenance  cheered  a  little.  "Would 
this  do?  'Because  both  are  higher  in 
Italy  than  in  England. '  Not  very  good ! 
—but  I  must  think  of  something. ' ' 

Doris  put  her  wits  to  his.  Between 
them  they  polished  the  riddle;  but  by 
the  time  it  was  done  the  Home  Secre- 


60  A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

tary  had  begun  to  find  Meadows 's  little 
wife,  whose  existence  he  had  not  noticed 
hitherto,  more  agreeable  than  Lady 
Dunstable's  table  with  its  racked  coun- 
tenances, and  its  too  ample  supply  of 
pencils  and  paper.  A  deadly  crime! 
When  Lady  Dunstable,  on  the  stroke  of 
midnight,  swept  through  the  rooms  to 
gather  her  guests  for  bed,  she  cast  a 
withering  glance  on  Doris  and  her  com- 
panion. 

"So  you  despised  our  little  amuse- 
ments?" she  said,  as  she  handed  Mrs. 
Meadows  her  candle. 

"I  wasn't  worthy  of  them,"  smiled 
Doris,  in  reply. 

"Well,  I  call  that  a  delightful  visit!" 
said  Meadows  as  the  train  next  morning 
pulled  out  of  the  Crosby  Ledgers  station 
for  London.  "I  feel  freshened  up  all 
over. '  > 

Doris  looked  at  him  with  rather  mock- 
ing eyes,  but  said  nothing.  She  fully 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  61 

recognised,  however,  that  Arthur  would 
have  been  an  ungrateful  wretch  if  he  had 
not  enjoyed  it.  Lady  Dunstable  had 
been,  so  to  speak,  at  his  feet,  and  all  her 
little  court  had  taken  their  cue  from  her. 
He  had  been  flattered,  drawn  out,  and 
shown  off  to  his  heart's  content,  and  had 
been  most  naturally  and  humanly  happy. 
"And  I,"  thought  Doris  with  sudden  re- 
pentance, "was  just  a  spiky,  horrid  little 
toad!  What  was  wrong  with  me?" 
She  was  still  searching,  when  Meadows 
said  reproachfully: 

"I  thought,  darling,  you  might  have 
taken  a  little  more  trouble  to  make 
friends  with  Lady  Dunstable.  How- 
ever, that'll  be  all  right.  I  told  her,  of 
course,  we  should  be  delighted  to  go  to 
Scotland." 

"Arthur!"  cried  Doris,  aghast. 
"Three  weeks!  I  couldn't,  Arthur! 
Don't  ask  me!" 

"And,  pray,  why?"  he  angrily  in- 
quired. 


62  A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

"Because — oh,  Arthur,  don't  you  un- 
derstand? She  is  a  man's  woman.  She 
took  a  particular  dislike  to  me,  and  I 
just  had  to  be  stubborn  and  thorny  to 
get  on  at  all.  I'm  awfully  sorry — but 
I  couldn't  stay  with  her,  and  I'm  cer- 
tain you  wouldn't  be  happy  either." 

"I  should  be  perfectly  happy,"  said 
Meadows,  with  vehemence.  "And  so 
would  you,  if  you  weren't  so  critical  and 
censorious.  Anyway"  —  his  Jove-like 
mouth  shut  firmly — "I  have  promised." 

"You  couldn't  promise  for  me !"  cried 
Doris,  holding  her  head  very  high. 

"Then  you'll  have  to  let  me  go  with- 
out you  ? ' ' 

"Which,  of  course,  was  what  you 
swore  not  to  do !"  she  said,  provokingly. 

"I  thought  my  wife  was  a  reasonable 
woman !  Lady  Dunstable  rouses  all  my 
powers;  she  gives  me  ideas  which  may 
be  most  valuable.  It  is  to  the  interest  of 
both  of  us  that  I  should  keep  up  my 
friendship  with  her. ' ' 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  63 

"Then  keep  it  up,"  said  Doris,  her 
cheeks  aflame.  "But  you  won't  want 
me  to  help  you,  Arthur. ' ' 

He  cried  out  that  it  was  only  pride 
and  conceit  that  made  her  behave  so. 
In  her  heart  of  hearts,  Doris  mostly 
agreed  with  him.  But  she  wouldn't  con- 
fess it,  and  it  was  presently  understood 
between  them  that  Meadows  would  duly 
accept  the  Dunstables'  invitation  for 
August,  and  that  Doris  would  stay  be- 
hind. 

After  which,  Doris  looked  steadily  out 
of  the  window  for  the  rest  of  the  jour- 
ney, and  could  not  at  all  conceal  from 
herself  that  she  had  never  felt  more  mis- 
erable in  her  life.  The  only  person  in 
the  trio  who  returned  to  the  Kensington 
house  entirely  happy  was  Jane,  who 
spent  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  de- 
scribing to  Martha,  the  cook-general,  the 
glories  of  Crosby  Ledgers,  and  her  own 
genteel  appearance  in  Mrs.  Meadows 's 
blouse. 


PART  II 
CHAPTER  III 

DURING  the  weeks  that  followed 
the  Meadowses'  first  visit  to 
Crosby  Ledgers,  Doris's  conscience  was 
by  no  means  asleep  on  the  subject  of 
Lady  Dunstable.  She  felt  that  her  be- 
haviour in  that  lady's  house,  and  the 
sudden  growth  in  her  own  mind  of  a 
quite  unmanageable  dislike,  were  not  to 
be  defended  in  one  who  prided  herself 
on  a  general  temper  of  coolness  and 
common  sense,  who  despised  the  rancour 
and  whims  of  other  women,  hated  scenes, 
and  had  always  held  jealousy  to  be  the 
smallest  and  most  degrading  of  pas- 
sions. Why  not  laugh  at  what  was 
odious,  show  oneself  superior  to  per- 
sonal slights,  and  enjoy  what  could  be 

64 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS  65 

enjoyed?    And  above  all,  why  grudge 
Arthur  a  woman  friend? 

None  of  these  arguments,  however, 
availed  at  all  to  reconcile  Doris  to  the 
new  intimacy  growing  under  her  eyes. 
The  Dunstables  came  to  town,  and  in- 
vitations followed.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mead- 
ows were  asked  to  a  large  dinner-party, 
and  Doris  held  her  peace  and  went. 
She  found  herself  at  the  end  of  a  long 
table  with  an  inarticulate  schoolboy  of 
seventeen,  a  ward  of  Lord  Dunstable's, 
on  her  left,  and  with  an  elderly  colonel 
on  her  right,  who,  after  a  little  cool  ex- 
amination of  her  through  an  eyeglass, 
decided  to  devote  himself  to  the  de- 
butante on  his  other  side,  a  Lady  Kosa- 
mond,  who  was  ready  to  chatter  hunting 
and  horses  to  him  through  the  whole  of 
dinner.  The  girl  was  not  pretty,  but  she 
was  fresh  and  gay,  and  Doris,  tired  with 
' '  much  serving, ' '  envied  her  spirits,  her 
evident  assumption  that  the  world  only 
existed  for  her  to  laugh  and  ride  in,  her 


66  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

childish  unspoken  claim  to  the  best  of 
everything — clothes,  food,  amusements, 
lovers.  Doris  on  her  side  made  valiant 
efforts  with  the  schoolboy.  She  liked 
boys,  and  prided  herself  on  getting  on 
with  them.  But  this  specimen  had  no 
conversation — at  any  rate  for  the  female 
sex — and  apparently  only  an  appetite. 
He  ate  steadily  through  the  dinner,  and 
seemed  rather  to  resent  Doris 's  attempts 
to  distract  him  from  the  task.  So  that 
presently  Doris  found  herself  reduced 
to  long  tracts  of  silence,  when  her  fan 
was  her  only  companion,  and  the  watch- 
ing of  other  people  her  only  amusement. 
Lord  and  Lady  Dunstable  faced  each 
other  at  the  sides  of  the  table,  which 
was  purposely  narrow,  so  that  talk  could 
pass  across  it.  Lady  Dunstable  sat  be- 
tween an  Ambassador  and  a  Cabinet 
[Minister,  but  Meadows  was  almost  di- 
rectly opposite  to  her,  and  it  seemed  to 
be  her  chief  business  to  make  him  the 
hero  of  the  occasion.  It  was  she  who 


A  GKEAT  SUCCESS  67 

drew  him  into  political  or  literary  dis- 
cussion with  the  Cabinet  Minister,  so 
that  the  neighbours  of  each  stayed  their 
own  talk  to  listen ;  she  who  would  insist 
on  his  repeating  "that  story  you  told 
me  at  Crosby  Ledgers;"  who  attacked 
him  abruptly — rudely  even,  as  she  had 
done  in  the  country — so  that  he  might 
defend  himself ;  and  when  he  had  slipped 
into  all  her  traps  one  after  the  other, 
would  fall  back  in  her  chair  with  a  little 
satisfied  smile.  Doris,  silent  and  for- 
gotten, could  not  keep  her  eyes  for  long 
from  the  two  distant  figures — from  this 
new  Arthur,  and  the  sallow-faced,  dark- 
eyed  witch  who  had  waved  her  wand 
over  him. 

Wasn't  she  glad  to  see  her  husband 
courted — valued  as  he  deserved — borne 
along  the  growing  stream  of  fame? 
What  matter,  if  she  could  only  watch 
him  from  the  bank? — and  if  the  im- 
petuous stream  were  carrying  him  away 
from  her?  No!  She  wasn't  glad. 


68  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

Some  cold  and  deadly  thing  seemed  to  be 
twining  about  her  heart.  Were  they 
leaving  the  dear,  poverty-stricken,  debt- 
pestered  life  behind  for  ever,  in  which, 
after  all,  they  had  been  so  happy:  she, 
everything  to  Arthur,  and  he,  so  de- 
pendent upon  her?  No  doubt  she  had 
been  driven  to  despair,  often,  by  his 
careless,  shiftless  ways ;  she  had  thirsted 
for  success  and  money;  just  money 
enough,  at  least,  to  get  along  with.  And 
now  success  had  come,  and  money  was 
coming.  And  here  she  was,  longing  for 
the  old,  hard,  struggling  past — hating 
the  advent  of  the  new  and  glittering  fu- 
ture. As  she  sat  at  Lady  Dunstable's 
table,  she  seemed  to  see  the  little  room 
in  their  Kensington  house,  with  the  big 
hole  in  the  carpet,  the  piles  of  papers 
and  books,  the  reading-lamp  that  would 
smoke,  her  work-basket,  the  house- 
books,  Arthur  pulling  contentedly  at  his 
pipe,  the  fire  crackling  between  them,  his 
shabby  coat,  her  shabby  dress — 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS  69 

Bliss! — compared  to  this  splendid 
scene,  with  the  great  Vandycks  looking 
down  on  the  dinner-table,  the  crowd  of 
guests  and  servants,  the  costly  food,  the 
dresses,  and  the  diamonds — with,  in  the 
distance,  her  Arthur,  divided,  as  it 
seemed,  from  her  by  a  growing  chasm, 
never  remembering  to  throw  her  a  look 
or  a  smile,  drinking  in  a  tide  of  flattery 
he  would  once  have  been  the  first  to 
scorn,  captured,  exhibited,  befooled  by 
an  unscrupulous,  egotistical  woman,  who 
would  drop  him  like  a  squeezed  orange 
when  he  had  ceased  to  amuse  her.  And 
the  worst  of  it  was  that  the  woman  was 
not  a  mere  pretender!  She  had  a  fine, 
hard  brain, — "as  good  as  Arthur's — 
nearly — and  he  knows  it.  It  is  that 
which  attracts  him — and  excites  him. 
I  can  mend  his  socks ;  I  can  listen  while 
he  reads ;  and  he  used  to  like  it  when  I 
praised.  Now,  what  I  say  will  never 
matter  to  him  any  more;  that  was  just 
sentiment  and  nonsense;  now,  he  only 


70  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

•wants  to  know  what  she  says; — that's 
business!  He  writes  with  her  in  his 
mind — and  when  he  has  finished  some- 
thing he  sends  it  off  to  her,  straight. 
I  may  see  it  when  all  the  world  may — 
but  she  has  the  first-fruits!" 

And  in  poor  Doris 's  troubled  mind  the 
whole  scene — save  the  two  central  fig- 
ures, Lady  Dunstable  and  Arthur — 
seemed  to  melt  away.  She  was  not  the 
first  wife,  by  a  long  way,  into  whose 
quiet  breast  Lady  Dunstable  had 
dropped  these  seeds  of  discord.  She 
knew  it  well  by  report ;  but  it  was  hate- 
ful, both  to  wifely  feeling  and  natural 
vanity,  that  she  should  now  be  the  vic- 
tim of  the  moment,  and  should  know 
no  more  than  her  predecessors  how  to 
defend  herself.  "Why  can't  I  be  cool 
and  cutting — pay  her  back  when  she  is 
rude,  and  contradict  her  when  she's  ab- 
surd? She  is  absurd  often.  But  I 
think  of  the  right  things  to  say  just  five 
minutes  too  late.  I  have  no  nerve — 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  71 

that's  the  point! — only  I 'esprit  d'esca- 
lier  to  perfection.  And  she  has  been 
trained  to  this  sort  of  campaigning 
from  her  babyhood.  No  good  growling ! 
I  shall  never  hold  my  own!" 

Then,  into  this  despairing  mood  there 
dropped  suddenly  a  fragment  of  her 
neighbour,  the  Colonel's,  conversation — 
"Mrs.  So-and-so  I  Impossible  woman! 
Oh,  one  doesn't  mind  seeing  her  graze 
occasionally  at  the  other  end  of  one's 
table — as  the  price  of  getting  her  hus- 
band, don't  you  know? — but — " 

Doris's  sudden  laugh  at  the  Colonel's 
elbow  startled  that  gentleman  so  that  he 
turned  round  to  look  at  her.  But  she 
was  absorbed  in  the  menu,  which  she  had 
taken  up,  and  he  could  only  suppose  that 
something  in  it  amused  her. 

A  few  days  later  arrived  a  letter  for 
Meadows,  which  he  handed  to  his  wife 
in  silence.  There  had  been  no  further 
discussion  of  Lady  Dunstable  between 
them;  only  a  general  sense  of  friction, 


72  A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

warnings  of  hidden  fire  on  Doris's  side, 
and  resentment  on  his,  qnite  new  in  their 
relation  to  each  other.  Meadows  clearly 
thought  that  his  wife  was  behaving  very 
badly.  Lady  Dunstable's  efforts  on  his 
behalf  had  already  done  him  substantial 
service;  she  had  introduced  him  to  all 
kinds  of  people  likely  to  help  him,  intel- 
lectually and  financially ;  and  to  help  him 
was  to  help  Doris.  Why  would  she  be 
such  a  little  fool!  So  unlike  her,  too! 
— sensible,  level-headed  creature  that 
she  generally  was.  But  he  was  afraid 
of  losing  his  own  temper,  if  he  argued 
with  her.  And  indeed  his  lazy  easy-go- 
ingness  loathed  argument  of  this  domes- 
tic sort,  loathed  scenes,  loathed  doing 
anything  disagreeable  that  could  be  put 
off. 
But  here  was  Lady  Dunstable's  letter: 

Dear  Mr.  Arthur, — Will  your  wife  forgive  me  if 
I  ask  you  to  come  to  a  tiny  men's  dinner-party 
next  Friday  at  8JL5 — to  meet  the  President  of  the 
Lhuna,  and  another  Russian,  an  intimate  friend  of 


73 

Tolstoy's?    All  males,  but  myself!    So  I  hope 
Mrs.  Meadows  win  let  you  come. 

Yours  sincerely, 

Dux  STABLE. 


"Of  course,  I  wont  go  if  you  don't 
like  it,  Doris,"  said  Meadows  with  the 
smile  of  magnanimity. 

"I  thought  you  were  angry  with  me  — 
once  —  for  even  suggesting  that  you 
might  !  *  '  Doris  's  tone  was  light,  but  not 
pleasing  to  a  husband's  ears.  She  was 
busy  at  the  moment  in  packing  up  the 
American  proofs  of  the  Disraeli  lecture, 
which  at  last  with  infinite  difficulty  she 
had  persuaded  Meadows  to  correct  and 
return. 

"Well  —  but  of  course  —  this  is  excep- 
tional!" said  Meadows,  pacing  up  and 
down  irresolutely. 

''Everything's  exceptional  —  in  that 
quarter,"  said  Doris,  in  the  same  tone. 
"Oh,  go,  of  course!  —  it  would  be  a  thou- 
sand pities  not  to  go." 

Meadows  at  once  took  her  at  her  word, 


74  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

That  was  the  first  of  a  series  of  "male" 
dinners,  to  which,  however,  it  seemed  to 
Doris,  if  one  might  judge  from  Arthur's 
accounts,  that  a  good  many  female  ex- 
ceptions were  admitted,  no  doubt  by  way 
of  proving  the  rule.  And  during  July, 
Meadows  lunched  in  town — in  the  lofty 
regions  of  St.  James's  or  Mayfair — 
with  other  enthusiastic  women  admirers, 
most  of  them  endowed  with  long  purses 
and  long  pedigrees,  at  least  three  or  four 
times  a  week.  Doris  was  occasionally 
asked  and  sometimes  went.  But  she 
was  suffering  all  the  time  from  an  initial 
discouragement  and  depression,  which 
took  away  self-reliance,  and  left  her 
awkwardly  conscious.  She  struggled, 
but  in  vain.  The  world  into  which  Ar- 
thur was  being  so  suddenly  swept  was 
strange  to  her,  and  in  many  ways  an- 
tipathetic; but  had  she  been  happy  and 
in  spirits  she  could  have  grappled  with 
it,  or  rather  she  could  have  lost  herself 
in  Arthur's  success.  Had  she  not  al- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  75 

ways  been  his  slave?  But  she  was  not 
happy!  In  their  obscure  days  she  had 
been  Arthur's  best  friend,  as  well  as  his 
wife.  And  it  was  the  old  comradeship 
which  was  failing  her ;  encroached  upon, 
niched  from  her,  by  other  women;  and 
especially  by  this  exacting,  absorbing 
woman,  whose  craze  for  Arthur  Mead- 
ows's  society  was  rapidly  becoming  an 
amusement  and  a  scandal  even  to  those 
well  acquainted  with  her  previous  rec- 
ords of  the  same  sort. 

The  end  of  July  arrived.  The  Dun- 
stables  left  town.  At  a  concert,  for 
which  she  had  herself  sent  them  tickets, 
Lady  Dunstable  met  Doris  and  her  hus- 
band, the  night  before  she  departed. 

"In  ten  days  we  shall  expect  you  at 
Pitlochry,"  she  said,  smiling,  to  Arthur 
Meadows,  as  she  swept  past  them  in  the 
corridor.  Then,  pausing,  she  held  out  a 
perfunctory  hand  to  Doris. 


76  A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

"And  we  really  can't  persuade  you  to 
come  too?" 

The  tone  was  careless  and  patronising. 
It  brought  the  sudden  red  to  Doris's 
cheek.  For  one  moment  she  was 
tempted  to  say — ' '  Thank  you — since  you 
are  so  kind — after  all,  why  not?" — just 
that  she  might  see  the  change  in  those 
large,  malicious  eyes — might  catch  their 
owner  unawares,  for  once.  But,  as 
usual,  nerve  failed  her.  She  merely 
said  that  her  drawing  would  keep  her  all 
August  in  town;  and  that  London, 
empty,  was  the  best  possible  place  for 
work.  Lady  Dunstable  nodded  and 
passed  on. 

The  ten  days  flew.  Meadows,  kept  to 
it  by  Doris,  was  very  busy  preparing  an- 
other lecture  for  publication  in  an  Eng- 
lish review.  Doris,  meanwhile,  got  his 
clothes  ready,  and  affected  a  uniformly 
cheerful  and  indifferent  demeanour. 
On  Arthur's  last  evening  at  home,  how- 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS  77 

ever,  lie  came  suddenly  into  the  sitting- 
room,  where  Doris  was  sewing  on  some 
final  buttons,  and  after  fidgeting  about 
a  little,  with  occasional  glances  at  his 
wife,  he  said  abruptly: 

"I  say,  Doris,  I  won't  go  if  you're  go- 
ing to  take  it  like  this." 

She  turned  upon  him. 

"Like  what?" 

"Oh,  don't  pretend!"  was  the  im- 
patient reply.  "You  know  very  well 
that  you  hate  my  going  to  Scotland !" 

Doris,  all  on  edge,  and  smarting  un- 
der the  too  Jovian  look  and  frown  with 
which  he  surveyed  her  from  the  hearth- 
rug, declared  that,  as  it  was  not  a  case 
of  her  going  to  Scotland,  but  of  his,  she 
was  entirely  indifferent.  If  he  enjoyed 
it,  he  was  quite  right  to  go.  She  was  go- 
ing to  enjoy  her  work  in  Uncle  Charles's 
studio. 

Meadows  broke  out  into  an  angry  at- 
tack on  her  folly  and  unkindness.  But 
the  more  he  lost  his  temper,  the  more 


78  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

provokingly  Doris  kept  hers.  She  sat 
there,  surrounded  by  his  socks  and 
shirts,  a  trim,  determined  little  figure — 
declining  to  admit  that  she  was  angry, 
or  jealous,  or  offended,  or  anything  of 
the  kind.  Would  he  please  come  up- 
stairs and  give  her  his  last  directions 
about  his  packing?  She  thought  she 
had  put  everything  ready;  but  there 
were  just  a  few  things  she  was  doubtful 
about. 

And  all  the  time  she  seemed  to  be 
watching  another  Doris — a  creature 
quite  different  from  her  real  self. 
What  had  come  over  her?  If  anybody 
had  told  her  beforehand  that  she  could 
ever  let  slip  her  power  over  her  own  will 
like  this,  ever  become  possessed  with  this 
silent,  obstinate  demon  of  wounded  love 
and  pride,  never  would  she  have  believed 
them!  She  moved  under  its  grip  like 
an  automaton.  She  would  not  quarrel 
with  Arthur.  But  as  no  soft  confession 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  79 

was  possible,  and  no  mending  or  undo- 
ing of  what  had  happened,  to  laugh  her 
way  through  the  difficult  hours  was 
all  that  remained.  So  that  whenever 
Meadows  renewed  the  attempt  to  "have 
it  out,"  he  was  met  by  renewed  evasion 
and  "chaff "  on  Doris's  side,  till  he  could 
only  retreat  with  as  much  offended  dig- 
nity as  she  allowed  him. 

It  was  after  midnight  before  she  had 
finished  his  packing.  Then,  bidding  him 
a  smiling  good  night,  she  fell  asleep — 
apparently — as  soon  as  her  head  touched 
the  pillow. 

The  next  morning,  early,  she  stood  on 
the  steps  waving  farewell  to  Arthur, 
without  a  trace  of  ill-humour.  And  he, 
though  vaguely  uncomfortable,  had  sub- 
mitted at  last  to  what  he  felt  was  her 
fixed  purpose  of  avoiding  a  scene. 
Moreover,  the  " eternal  child"  in  him, 
which  made  both  his  charm  and  his 
weakness,  had  already  scattered  his  com- 


80          A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

punctions  of  the  preceding  day,  and  was 
now  aglow  with  the  sheer  joy  of  holiday 
and  change.  He  had  worked  very  hard, 
he  had  had  a  great  success,  and  now  he 
was  going  to  live  for  three  weeks  in  the 
lap  of  luxury;  intellectual  luxury  first 
and  foremost — good  talk,  good  company, 
an  abundance  of  books  for  rainy  days; 
but  with  the  addition  of  a  supreme  chef, 
Lord  Dunstable's  champagne,  and  all 
the  amenities  of  one  of  the  best  moors  in 
Scotland. 

Doris  went  back  into  the  house,  and, 
Arthur  being  no  longer  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, allowed  herself  a  few  tears.  She 
had  never  felt  so  lonely  in  her  life,  nor 
so  humiliated.  "My  moral  character  is 
gone,"  she  said  to  herself.  "I  have  no 
moral  character.  I  thought  I  was  a  sen- 
sible, educated  woman ;  and  I  am  just  an 
'  'Arriet,'  in  a  temper  with  her  *  'Arry.' 
Well  —  courage!  Three  weeks  isn't 
long.  Who  can  say  that  Arthur  mayn  't 
come  back  disillusioned?  Rachel  Dun- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS          81 

stable  is  a  born  tyrant.  If,  instead  of 
flattering  him,  she  begins  to  bully  him, 
strange  things  may  happen!" 

The  first  week  of  solitude  she  spent  in 
household  drudgery.  Bills  had  to  be 
paid,  and  there  was  now  mercifully  a 
little  money  to  pay  them  with.  Though 
it  was  August,  the  house  was  to  be 
"  spring-cleaned, "  and  Doris  had  made  a 
compact  with  her  sulky  maids  that  when 
it  began  she  would  do  no  more  than  sleep 
and  breakfast  at  home.  She  would 
spend  her  days  in  the  Campden  Hill 
studio,  and  sup  on  a  tray — anywhere. 
On  these  terms,  they  grudgingly  allowed 
her  to  occupy  her  own  house. 

The  studio  in  which  she  worked  was 
on  the  top  of  Campden  Hill,  and  opened 
into  one  of  the  pleasant  gardens  of  that 
neighbourhood.  Her  uncle,  Charles 
Bentley,  an  elderly  Academician,  with 
an  ugly,  humorous  face,  red  hair,  red 
eyebrows,  a  black  skull-cap,  and  a  gen- 
eral weakness  for  the  female  sex,  was 


82          A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

very  fond  of  his  niece  Doris,  and  inclined 
to  think  her  a  neglected  and  underrated 
wife.  He  was  too  fond  of  his  own  com- 
fort, however,  to  let  Meadows  perceive 
this  opinion  of  his ;  still  less  did  he  dare 
express  it  to  Doris.  All  he  could  do  was 
to  befriend  her  and  make  her  welcome 
at  the  studio,  to  advise  her  about  her 
illustrations,  and  correct  her  drawing 
when  it  needed  it.  He  himself  was  an 
old-fashioned  artist,  quite  content  to  be 
"mid"  or  even  "early"  Victorian.  He 
still  cultivated  the  art  of  historical 
painting,  and  was  still  as  anxious  as  any 
contemporary  of  Frith  to  tell  a  story. 
And  as  his  manner  was  no  less  behind 
the  age  than  his  material,  his  pictures 
remained  on  his  hands,  while  the  "vi- 
cious horrors,"  as  they  seemed  to  him, 
of  the  younger  school  held  the  field  and 
captured  the  newspapers.  But  as  he 
had  some  private  means,  and  no  kith  or 
kin  but  his  niece,  the  indifference  of  the 
public  to  his  work  caused  him  little  dis- 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS          83 

turbance.  He  pleased  his  own  taste,  al- 
lowing himself  a  good-natured  contempt 
for  the  work  which  supplanted  him, 
coupled  with  an  ever-generous  hand  for 
any  post-Impressionist  in  difficulties. 

On  the  August  afternoon  when  Doris, 
escaping  at  last  from  her  maids  and  her 
accounts,  made  her  way  up  to  the  studio, 
for  some  hours '  work  on  the  last  three  or 
four  illustrations  wanted  for  a  Christ- 
mas book,  Uncle  Charles  welcomed  her 
with  effusion. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  child,  all  this 
time?  I  thought  you  must  have  flitted 
entirely." 

Doris  explained — while  she  set  up  her 
easel — that  for  the  first  time  in  their 
lives  she  and  Arthur  had  been  seeing 
something  of  the  great  world,  and — 
mildly — "doing"  the  season.  Arthur 
was  now  continuing  the  season  in  Scot- 
land, while  she  had  stayed  at  home  to 
work  and  rest.  Throughout  her  talk, 
she  avoided  mentioning  the  Dunstables. 


84          A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

"H'm!"  said  Uncle  Charles,  "so 
you've  been  junketing?" 

Doris  admitted  it. 

"Did  you  like  it?" 

Doris  put  on  her  candid  look. 

"I  daresay  I  should  have  liked  it,  if 
I'd  made  a  success  of  it.  Of  course 
Arthur  did." 

"Too  much  trouble!"  said  the  old 
painter,  shaking  his  head.  "I  was  in 
the  swim,  as  they  call  it,  for  a  year  or 
two.  I  might  have  stayed  there,  I  sup- 
pose, for  I  could  always  tell  a  story,  and 
I  wasn't  afraid  of  the  big-wigs.  But  I 
couldn't  stand  it.  Dress-clothes  are  the 
deuce!  And  besides,  talk  now  is  not 
what  it  used  to  be.  The  clever  men  who 
can  say  smart  things  are  too  clever  to 
say  them.  Nobody  wants 'em!  So  let's 
'cultivate  our  garden,'  my  dear,  and  be 
thankful.  I'm  beginning  a  new  picture 
— and  I've  found  a  topping  new  model. 
What  can  a  man  want  more?  Very  nice 
of  you  to  let  Arthur  go,  and  have  his 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  85 

head.    Where  is  it? — some  smart  moor? 
He'll  soon  be  tired  of  it." 

Doris  laughed,  let  the  question  as  to 
the  " smart  moor"  pass,  and  came  round 
to  look  at  the  new  subject  that  Uncle 
Charles  was  laying  in.  He  explained  it 
to  her,  well  knowing  that  he  spoke  to  un- 
sympathetic ears,  for  whatever  Doris 
might  draw  for  her  publishers,  she  was  a 
passionate  and  humble  follower  of  those 
modern  experimentalists  who  have  made 
the  Slade  School  famous.  The  subject 
was,  it  seemed,  to  be  a  visit  paid  to 
Joanna  the  mad  and  widowed  mother  of 
Charles  V.,  at  Tordesillas,  by  the  envoys 
of  Henry  VII.,  who  were  thus  allowed 
by  Ferdinand,  the  Queen's  father,  to 
convince  themselves  that  the  Queen's 
profound  melancholia  formed  an  insup- 
erable barrier  to  the  marriage  proposals 
of  the  English  King.  The  figure  of  the 
distracted  Queen,  crouching  in  white  be- 
side a  window  from  which  she  could  see 
the  tomb  of  her  dead  and  adored  hus- 


86  A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

band,  the  Archduke  Philip,  and  some  of 
the  splendid  figures  of  the  English  em- 
bassy, were  already  sketched. 

"I  have  been  fit  to  hang  myself  over 
her!"  said  Bentley,  pointing  to  the 
Queen.  "I  tried  model  after  model. 
At  last  I've  got  the  very  thing!  She 
comes  to-day  for  the  first  time.  You'll 
see  her!  Before  she  comes,  I  must 
scrape  out  Joanna,  so  as  to  look  at  the 
thing  quite  fresh.  But  I  daresay  I  shall 
only  make  a  few  sketches  of  the  lady  to- 
day." 

"Who  is  she,  and  where  did  you  get 
her?" 

Bentley  laughed.  "You  won't  like 
her,  my  dear!  Never  mind.  Her  ap- 
pearance is  magnificent — whatever  her 
mind  and  morals  may  be. ' ' 

And  he  described  how  he  had  heard  of 
the  lady  from  an  artist  friend  who  had 
originally  seen  her  at  a  music-hall,  and 
had  persuaded  her  to  come  and  sit  to 
him.  The  comic  haste  and  relief  with 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  87 

which  he  had  now  transferred  her  to 
Bentley  lost  nothing  in  Bentley's  telling. 
Of  course  she  had  "a  fiend  of  a  temper." 
"Wish  you  joy  of  her!  Oh,  don't  ask 
me  about  her !  You'll  find  out  for  your- 
self. "  "I  can  manage  her, ' '  said  Uncle 
Charles  tranquilly.  "I've  had  so  many 
of  'em." 

"She  is  Spanish?" 

"Not  at  all.  She  is  Italian.  That  is 
to  say,  her  mother  was  a  Neapolitan,  the 
daughter  of  a  jeweller  in  Hatton  Gar- 
den, and  her  father  an  English  bank 
clerk.  The  Neapolitans  have  a  lot  of 
Spanish  blood  in  them — hence,  no  doubt, 
the  physique. ' ' 

"And  she  is  a  professional  model?" 

"Nothing  of  the  sort! — though  she 
will  probably  become  one.  She  is  a 
writer — Heaven  save  the  mark! — and  I 
have  to  pay  her  vast  sums  to  get  her. 
It  is  the  greatest  favour." 

"A  writer?" 

"Poetess!  —  and    journalist!"    said 


88          A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

[Uncle  Charles,  enjoying  Doris's  puzzled 
look.  "She  sent  me  her  poems  yester- 
day. As  to  journalism" — his  eyes  twin- 
kled— "I  say  nothing — but  this.  Watch 
her  hats!  She  has  the  reputation — in 
certain  circles — of  being  the  best-hatted 
woman  in  London.  All  this  I  get  from 
the  man  who  handed  her  on  to  me.  As  I 
said  to  him,  it  depends  on  what  'Lon- 
don* you  mean." 

"Married?" 

"Oh  dear  no,  though  of  course  she 
calls  herself  *  Madame'  like  the  rest  of 
them — Madame  Vavasour.  I  have  rea- 
son, however,  to  believe  that  her  real 
name  is  Flink — Elena  Flink.  And  I 
should  say — very  much  on  the  look-out 
for  a  husband;  and  meanwhile  very 
much  courted  by  boys — who  go  to  what 
she  calls  her  'evenings.'  It  is  odd,  the 
taste  that  some  youths  have  for  these 
elderly  Circes." 

"Elderly?"  said  Doris,  busy  the  while 
with  her  own  preparations.  "I  was 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS  89 

hoping  for  something  young  and  beauti- 
ful!" 

"Young?  —  no!  —  an  unmistakable 
thirty-five.  Beautiful?  Well,  wait  till 
you  see  her  .  .  .  H'm — that  shoulder 
won't  do!" — Doris  had  just  placed  a 
preliminary  sketch  of  one  of  her  "sub- 
jects" under  his  eyes — "and  that  bit  of 
perspective  in  the  corner  wants  a  lot  of 
seeing  to.  Look  here!"  The  old  Acad- 
emician, brought  up  in  the  spirit  of 
Ingres — "le  dessin,  c'est  la  probite! — 
le  dessin,  c'est  1'honneur!" — fell  eag- 
erly to  work  on  the  sketch,  and  Doris 
watched. 

They  were  both  absorbed,  when  there 
was  a  knock  at  the  door.  Doris  turned 
hastily,  expecting  to  see  the  model.  In- 
stead of  which  there  entered,  in  response 
to  Bentley's  "Come  in!"  a  girl  of  four 
or  five  and  twenty,  in  a  blue  linen  dress 
and  a  shady  hat,  who  nodded  a  quiet 
"Good  afternoon"  to  the  artist,  and  pro- 
ceeded at  once  with  an  air  of  business  to 


90          A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

a  writing-table  at  the  further  end  of  the 
studio,  covered  with  papers. 

1  'Miss  Wigram,"  said  the  artist,  rais- 
ing his  voice,  "let  me  introduce  you  to 
my  niece,  Mrs.  Meadows." 

The  girl  rose  from  her  chair  again  and 
bowed.  Then  Doris  saw  that  she  had  a 
charming  tired  face,  beautiful  eyes  on 
which  she  had  just  placed  spectacles,  and 
soft  brown  hair  framing  her  thin  cheeks. 

"A  novelty  since  you  were  here," 
whispered  Bentley  in  Doris's  ear. 
"She's  an  accountant — capital  girl! 
Since  these  Liberal  budgets  came  along, 
I  can't  keep  my  own  accounts,  or  send 
in  my  own  income-tax  returns — dash 
them!  So  she  does  the  whole  business 
for  me — pays  everything — sees  to  every- 
thing— comes  once  a  week.  We  shall  all 
be  run  by  the  women  soon!" 

The  studio  had  grown  very  quiet. 
Through  some  glass  doors  open  to  the 
garden  came  in  little  wandering  winds 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  91 

which  played  with  some  loose  papers  on 
the  floor,  and  blew  Doris's  hair  about  her 
eyes  as  she  stooped  over  her  easel,  ab- 
sorbed in  her  drawing.  Apparently  ab- 
sorbed: her  subliminal  mind,  at  least, 
was  far  away,  wandering  on  a  craggy 
Scotch  moor.  A  lady  on  a  Scotch  pony 
— she  understood  that  Lady  Dunstable 
often  rode  with  the  shooters — and  a  tall 
man  walking  beside  her,  carrying,  not  a 
gun,  but  a  walking  stick: — that  was  the 
vision  in  the  crystal.  Arthur  was  too 
bad  a  shot  to  be  tolerated  in  the  Dun- 
stable  circle;  had  indeed  wisely  an- 
nounced from  the  beginning  that  he  was 
not  to  be  included  among  the  guns.  All 
the  more  time  for  conversation,  the  give 
and  take  of  wits,  the  pleasures  of  the 
intellectual  tilting-ground ;  the  whole 
watered  by  good  wine,  seasoned  with  the 
best  of  cooking,  and  lapped  in  the  gen- 
eral ease  of  a  house  where  nobody  ever 
thought  of  such  a  vulgar  thing  as  money 
except  to  spend  it. 


92  A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

Doris  had  in  general  a  severe  mind  as 
to  the  rich  and  aristocratic  classes.  Her 
own  hard  and  thrifty  life  had  disposed 
her  to  see  them  en  noir.  But  the  sudden 
rush  of  a  certain  section  of  them  to 
crowd  Arthur's  lectures  had  been  cer- 
tainly mollifying.  If  it  had  not  been 
for  the  Vampire,  Doris  was  well  aware 
that  her  standards  might  have  given 
way. 

As  it  was,  Lady  Dunstable's  exacting 
ways,  her  swoop,  straight  and  fierce,  on 
the  social  morsel  she  desired,  like  that 
of  an  eagle  on  the  sheepfold,  had  made 
her,  in  Doris's  sore  consciousness,  the 
representative  of  thousands  more;  all 
greedy,  able,  domineering,  inevitably 
getting  what  they  wanted,  and  more  than 
they  deserved ;  against  whom  the  starved 
and  virtuous  intellectuals  of  the  profes- 
sional classes  were  bound  to  contend  to 
the  death.  The  story  of  that  poor  girl, 
that  clergyman's  daughter,  for  instance 
— could  anything  have  been  more  in- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  93 

solent — more  cruel?  Doris  burned  to 
avenge  her. 

Suddenly — a  great  clatter  and  noise 
in  the  passage  leading  from  the  small 
house  behind  to  the  studio  and  garden. 

"Here  she  is!" 

Uncle  Charles  sprang  up,  and  reached 
the  studio  door  just  as  a  shower  of 
knocks  descended  upon  it  from  outside. 
He  opened  it,  and  on  the  threshold  there 
stood  two  persons ;  a  stout  lady  in  white, 
surmounted  by  a  huge  black  hat  with  a 
hearse-like  array  of  plumes ;  and,  behind 
her,  a  tall  and  willowy  youth,  with — so 
far  as  could  be  seen  through  the  chinks 
of  the  hat — a  large  nose,  fair  hair,  pale 
blue  eyes,  and  a  singular  deficiency  of 
chin.  He  carried  in  his  arms  a  tiny 
black  Spitz  with  a  pink  ribbon  round  its 
neck. 

The  lady  looked,  frowning,  into  the 
interior  of  the  studio.  She  held  in  her 
hand  a  very  large  fan,  with  the  handle 
of  which  she  had  been  rapping  the  door ; 


94  A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

and  the  black  feathers  with  which  she 
was  canopied  seemed  to  be  nodding  in 
her  eyes. 

"Maestro,  you  are  not  alone!"  she 
said  in  a  deep,  reproachful  voice. 

"My  niece,  Mrs.  Meadows — Madame 
Vavasour,"  said  Bentley,  ushering  in 
the  new-comer. 

Doris  turned  from  her  easel  and 
bowed,  only  to  receive  a  rather  scowling 
response. 

' '  And  your  friend  I "  As  he  spoke  the 
artist  looked  blandly  at  the  young  man. 

"I  brought  him  to  amuse  me,  Maestro. 
When  I  am  dull  my  countenance  changes, 
and  you  cannot  do  it  justice.  He  will 
talk  to  me — I  shall  be  animated — and 
you  will  profit." 

"Ah,  no  doubt!"  said  Bentley,  smil- 
ing. "And  your  friend's  name?" 

"Herbert  Dunstable  —  Honourable 
Herbert  Dunstable! — Signor  Bentley," 
said  Madame  Vavasour,  advancing  with 
a  stately  step  into  the  room,  and  waving 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  95 

peremptorily  to  the  young  man  to  fol- 
low. 

Doris  sat  transfixed  and  staring. 
Bentley  turned  to  look  at  his  niece,  and 
their  eyes  met — his  full  of  suppressed 
mirth.  The  son! — the  unsatisfactory 
son!  Doris  remembered  that  his  name 
was  Herbert.  In  the  train  of  this  third- 
rate  sorceress! 

Her  thoughts  ran  excitedly  to  the  dis- 
tant moors,  and  that  magnificent  lady, 
with  her  circle  of  distinguished  persons, 
holiday-making  statesmen,  peers,  diplo- 
mats, writers,  and  the  like.  Here  was  a 
humbler  scene!  But  Doris's  fancy  at 
once  divined  a  score  of  links  between  it 
and  the  high  comedy  yonder. 

Meanwhile,  at  the  name  of  Dunstable, 
the  girl  accountant  in  the  distance  had 
also  moved  sharply,  so  as  to  look  at  the 
young  man.  But  in  the  bustle  of  Ma- 
dame Vavasour's  entrance,  and  her  pas- 
sage to  the  sitter's  chair,  the  girl's  ges- 
ture passed  unnoticed. 


96  A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

"I'm  just  worn  out,  Maestro!*'  said 
the  model  languidly,  uplifting  a  pair  of 
tragic  eyes  to  the  artist.  "I  sat  up  half 
the  night  writing.  I  had  a  subject  which 
tormented  me.  But  I  have  done  some- 
thing splendid!  Isn't  it  splendid,  Her- 
bert!" 

"Kipping!"  said  the  young  man,  grin- 
ning widely. 

"Sit  down!"  said  Madame,  with  a 
change  of  tone.  And  the  youth  sat 
down,  on  the  very  low  chair  to  which  she 
pointed  him,  doing  his  best  to  dispose  of 
his  long  legs. 

"Give  me  the  dog!"  she  commanded. 
"You  have  no  idea  how  to  hold  him — 
poor  lamb ! ' ' 

The  dog  was  handed  to  her;  she  took 
off  her  enormous  hat  with  many  sighs 
of  fatigue,  and  then,  with  the  dog  on  her 
lap,  asked  how  she  was  to  sit.  Bentley 
explained  that  he  wished  to  make  a  few 
preliminary  sketches  of  her  head  and 
bust,  and  proceeded  to  pose  her.  She 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS  97 

accepted  his  directions  with  a  curious 
pettishness,  as  though  they  annoyed  her ; 
and  presently  complained  loudly  that  the 
chair  was  uncomfortable,  and  the  pose 
irksome.  He  handled  her,  however, 
with  a  good-humoured  mixture  of  flat- 
tery and  persuasion,  and  at  last,  step- 
ping back,  surveyed  the  result — well  con- 
tent. 

There  was  no  doubt  whatever  that  she 
was  a  very  handsome  woman,  and  that 
her  physical  type — that  of  the  more 
lethargic  and  heavily  built  Neapolitan — 
suggested  very  happily  the  mad  and 
melancholy  Queen.  She  had  superb 
black  hair,  eyes  profoundly  dark,  a  low 
and  beautiful  brow,  lips  classically  fine, 
a  powerful  head  and  neck,  and  a  com- 
plexion which,  but  for  the  treatment 
given  it,  would  have  been  of  a  clear  and 
beautiful  olive.  She  wore  a  draggled 
dress  of  cream-coloured  muslin,  very 
transparent  over  the  shoulders,  some- 
what scandalously  wanting  at  the  throat 


98  A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

and  breast,  and  very  frayed  and  dirty 
round  the  skirt.  Her  feet,  which  were 
large  and  plump,  were  cased  in  ex- 
tremely pointed  shoes  with  large  paste 
buckles ;  and  as  she  crossed  them  on  the 
stool  provided  for  them  she  showed  a 
considerable  amount  of  rather  clumsy 
ankle.  The  hands  too  were  large,  com- 
mon, and  ill-kept,  and  the  wrists  laden 
with  bracelets.  She  was  adorned  indeed 
with  a  great  deal  of  jewellery,  including 
some  startling  earrings  of  a  bright 
green  stone.  The  hat,  which  she  had 
carefully  placed  on  a  chair  beside  her, 
was  truly  a  monstrosity! — but,  as  Doris 
guessed,  an  expensive  monstrosity,  such 
as  the  Rue  de  la  Paix  provides,  at  any- 
thing from  a  hundred  and  fifty  to  two 
hundred  and  fifty  francs,  for  those  of  its 
cosmopolitan  customers  whom  it  pillages 
and  despises.  How  did  the  lady  afford 
it?  The  rest  of  her  dress  suggested  a 
struggle  with  small  means,  waged  by  one 
who  was  greedy  for  effect,  obtained  at  a 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS          99 

minimum  of  trouble.  That  she  was 
rouged  and  powdered  goes  without  say- 
ing. 

And  the  young  man?  Doris  perceived 
at  once  his  likeness  to  his  father — a 
feeble  likeness.  But  he  was  evidently 
simple  and  good-natured,  and  to  all  ap- 
pearance completely  in  the  power  of  the 
enchantress.  He  fanned  her  assidu- 
ously. He  picked  up  all  the  various 
belongings — gloves,  handkerchiefs,  hand- 
bag— which  she  perpetually  let  fall.  He 
ran  after  the  dog  whenever  it  escaped 
from  the  lady's  lap  and  threatened  mis- 
chief in  the  studio ;  and  by  way  of  amus- 
ing her — the  purpose  for  which  he  had 
been  imported — he  kept  up  a  stream  of 
small  cryptic  gossip  about  various  com- 
mon acquaintances,  most  of  whom 
seemed  to  belong  to  the  music-hall  pro- 
fession, and  to  be  either  "stars'*  or  the 
satellites  of  "stars."  Madame  listened 
to  him  with  avidity,  and  occasionally 
broke  into  a  giggling  laugh.  She  had, 


100         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

however,  two  manners,  and  two  kinds  of 
conversation,  which  she  adopted  with 
the  young  man  and  the  Academician  re- 
spectively. Her  talk  with  the  youth 
suggested  the  jealous  ascendency  of  a 
coarse-minded  woman.  She  occasion- 
ally flattered  him,  but  more  generally  she 
teased  or  "ragged"  him.  She  seemed 
indeed  to  feel  him  securely  in  her  grip ; 
so  that  there  was  no  need  to  pose  for 
him,  as — figuratively  as  well  as  physic- 
ally— she  posed  for  Bentley.  To  the  ar- 
tist she  gave  her  opinions  on  pictures  or 
books — on  the  novels  of  Mr.  Wells,  or 
the  plays  of  Mr.  Bernard  Shaw — in  the 
languid  or  drawling  tone  of  accepted  au- 
thority; dropping  every  now  and  then 
into  a  broad  cockney  accent,  which  pro- 
duced a  startling  effect,  like  that  of  un- 
expected garlic  in  cookery.  Bentley 's 
gravity  was  often  severely  tried,  and 
Doris  altered  the  position  of  her  own 
easel  so  that  he  and  she  could  not  see 
each  other.  Meanwhile  Madame  took 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS         101 

not  the  smallest  notice  of  Mr.  Bentley's 
niece,  and  Doris  made  no  advances  to  the 
young  man,  to  whom  her  name  was 
clearly  quite  unknown.  Had  Circe 
really  got  him  in  her  toils?  Doris 
judged  him  soft-headed  and  soft-hearted ; 
no  match  at  all  for  the  lady.  The 
thought  of  her  walking  the  lawns  or  the 
drawing-rooms  of  Crosby  Ledgers  as  the 
betrothed  of  the  heir  stirred  in  Arthur 
Meadows 's  wife  a  silent,  and — be  it  con- 
fessed!— a  malicious  convulsion.  Such 
mothers,  so  self-centred,  so  set  on  their 
own  triumphs,  with  their  intellectual 
noses  so  very  much  in  the  clouds,  de- 
served such  sons !  She  promised  herself 
to  keep  her  own  counsel,  and  watch  the 
play. 

The  sitting  lasted  for  two  hours. 
When  it  was  over,  Uncle  Charles,  all 
smiles  and  satisfaction,  went  with  his 
visitors  to  the  front  door. 

He  was  away  some  little  time,  and  re- 
turned, bubbling,  to  the  studio. 


102         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

"She's  been  cross-examining  me  about 
her  poems!  I  had  to  confess  I  hadn't 
read  a  word  of  them.  And  now  she's 
offered  to  recite  next  time  she  comes! 
Good  Heavens — how  can  I  get  out  of  it? 
I  believe,  Doris,  she's  hooked  that  young 
idiot!  She  told  me  she  was  engaged  to 
him.  Do  you  know  anything  of  his 
people?" 

The  girl  accountant  suddenly  came 
forward.  She  looked  flushed  and  dis- 
tressed. 

"I  do!"  she  said,  with  energy. 
"Can't  somebody  stop  that?  It  will 
break  their  hearts ! ' ' 

Doris  and  Uncle  Charles  looked  at  her 
in  amazement. 

"Whose  hearts?"  said  the  painter. 

"Lord  and  Lady  Dunstable 's. " 

"You  know  them?"  exclaimed  Doris. 

"I  used  to  know  them — quite  well," 
said  the  girl,  quietly.  "My  father  had 
one  of  Lord  Dunstable's  livings.  He 
died  last  year.  He  didn't  like  Lady 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         103 

Dunstable.  He  quarrelled  with  her,  be- 
cause— because  she  once  did  a  very  rude 
thing  to  me.  But  this  would  be  too 
awful!  And  poor  Lord  Dunstable! 
Everybody  likes  him.  Oh — it  must  be 
stopped! — it  must!" 


WHEN  Doris  reached  home  that 
evening,  the  little  Kensington 
house,  with  half  its  carpets  up  and  all 
but  two  of  its  rooms  under  dust-sheets, 
looked  particularly  lonely  and  unattrac- 
tive. Arthur's  study  was  unrecognis- 
able. No  cheerful  litter  anywhere.  No 
smell  of  tobacco,  no  sign  of  a  male  pres- 
ence! Doris,  walking  restlessly  from 
room  to  room,  had  never  felt  so  for- 
saken, so  dismally  certain  that  the  best 
of  life  was  done.  Moreover,  she  had 
fully  expected  to  find  a  letter  from  Ar- 
thur waiting  for  her;  and  there  was 
nothing. 

It  was  positively  comic  that  under 
such  circumstances  anybody  should  ex- 
pect her — Doris  Meadows — to  trouble 
her  head  about  Lady  Dunstable's  affairs. 

104 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         105 

Of  course  she  would  feel  it  if  her  son 
made  a  ridiculous  and  degrading  mar- 
riage. But  why  not? — why  shouldn't 
he  come  to  grief  like  anybody  else's  son? 
Why  should  heaven  and  earth  be  moved 
in  order  to  prevent  it? — especially  by 
the  woman  to  whose  possible  jealousy 
and  pain  Lady  Dunstable  had  certainly 
never  given  the  most  passing  thought. 

All  the  same,  the  distress  shown  by 
that  odd  girl,  Miss  Wigram,  and  her  ap- 
peal both  to  the  painter  and  his  niece 
to  intervene  and  save  the  foolish  youth, 
kept  echoing  in  Doris's  memory,  al- 
though neither  she  nor  Bentley  had  re- 
ceived it  with  any  cordiality.  Doris  had 
soon  made  out  that  this  girl,  Alice  Wig- 
ram, was  indeed  the  clergyman's  daugh- 
ter whom  Lady  Dunstable  had  snubbed 
so  unkindly  some  twelve  months  before. 
She  was  evidently  a  sweet-natured,  sus- 
ceptible creature,  to  whom  Lord  Dun- 
stable  had  taken  a  fancy,  in  his  fatherly 
way,  during  occasional  visits  to  her 


106         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

father's  rectory,  and  of  whom  he  had 
spoken  to  his  wife.  That  Lady  Dun- 
stable  should  have  unkindly  slighted  this 
motherless  girl,  who  had  evidently  plenty 
of  natural  capacity  under  her  shyness, 
was  just  like  her,  and  Doris 's  feelings  of 
antagonism  to  the  tyrant  were  only 
sharpened  by  her  acquaintance  with  the 
victim.  Why  should  Miss  Wigram 
worry  herself?  Lord  Dunstable?  Well, 
but  after  all,  capable  men  should  keep 
such  wives  in  order.  If  Lord  Dunstable 
had  not  been  scandalously  weak,  Lady 
Dunstable  would  not  have  become  a  ter- 
ror to  her  sex. 

As  for  Uncle  Charles,  he  had  simply 
declined  all  responsibility  in  the  matter. 
He  had  never  seen  the  Dunstables, 
wouldn't  know  them  from  Adam,  and 
had  no  concern  whatever  in  what  hap- 
pened to  their  son.  The  situation 
merely  excited  in  him  one  man's  natural 
amusement  at  the  folly  of  another.  The 
boy  was  more  than  of  age.  Really  he 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         107 

and  his  mother  must  look  after  them- 
selves. To  meddle  with  the  young 
man's  love  affairs,  simply  because  he 
happened  to  visit  your  studio  in  the 
company  of  a  lady,  would  be  outrageous. 
So  the  painter  laughed,  shook  his  head, 
and  went  back  to  his  picture.  Then 
Miss  Wigram,  looking  despondently 
from  the  silent  Doris  to  the  artist  at 
work,  had  said  with  sudden  energy,  *'I 
must  find  out  about  her !  I'm — I'm  sure 
she's  a  horrid  woman!  Can  you  tell 
me,  sir" — she  addressed  Bentley — "the 
name  of  the  gentleman  who  was  painting 
her  before  she  came  here  ? ' ' 

Bentley  had  hummed  and  hawed  a 
little,  twisting  his  red  moustache,  and 
finally  had  given  the  name  and  address ; 
whereupon  Miss  Wigram  had  gathered 
up  her  papers,  some  of  which  had  drifted 
to  the  floor  between  her  table  and  Doris 's 
easel,  and  had  taken  an  immediate  de- 
parture, a  couple  of  hours  before  her 
usual  time,  throwing,  as  she  left  the 


108         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

studio,  a  wistful  and  rather  puzzled  look 
at  Mrs.  Meadows. 

Doris  congratulated  herself  that  she 
had  kept  her  own  counsel  on  the  subject 
of  the  Dunstables,  both  with  Uncle 
Charles  and  Miss  Wigram.  Neither  of 
them  had  guessed  that  she  had  any  per- 
sonal acquaintance  with  them.  She 
tried  now  to  put  the  matter  out  of  her 
thoughts.  Jane  brought  in  a  tray  for 
her  mistress,  and  Doris  supped  meagrely 
in  Arthur's  deserted  study,  thinking,  as 
the  sunset  light  came  in  across  the  dusty 
street,  of  that  flame  and  splendour 
which  such  weather  must  be  kindling  on 
the  moors,  of  the  blue  and  purple  dis- 
tances, the  glens  of  rocky  mountains 
hung  in  air,  "the  gleam,  the  shadow, 
and  the  peace  supreme"!  She  remem- 
bered how  on  their  September  honey- 
moon they  had  wandered  in  Eoss-shire, 
how  the  whole  land  was  dyed  crimson  by 
the  heather,  and  how  impossible  it  was 
to  persuade  Arthur  to  walk  discreetly 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS         109 

rather  than,  like  any  cockney  tripper, 
with  his  arm  round  his  sweetheart. 
Scotland  had  not  been  far  behind  the 
Garden  of  Eden  under  those  circum- 
stances. But  Arthur  was  now  pursuing 
the  higher,  the  intellectual  joys. 

She  finished  her  supper,  and  then  sat 
down  to  write  to  her  husband.  Was 
she  going  to  tell  him  anything  about  the 
incident  of  the  afternoon?  Why  should 
she?  Why  should  she  give  him  the 
chance  of  becoming  more  than  ever  Lady 
Dunstable  's  friend — pegging  out  an  eter- 
nal claim  upon  her  gratitude? 

Doris  wrote  her  letter.  She  described 
the  progress  of  the  spring  cleaning;  she 
reported  that  her  sixth  illustration  was 
well  forward,  and  that  Uncle  Charles  was 
wrestling  with  another  historical  pic- 
ture, a  machine  neither  better  nor  worse 
than  all  the  others.  She  thought  that 
after  all  Jane  would  soon  give  warning ; 
and  she,  Doris,  had  spent  three  pounds 
in  petty  cash  since  he  went  away;  how, 


110         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

she  could  not  remember,  but  it  was  all  in 
her  account  book. 
And  she  concluded: 

I  understand  then  that  we  meet  at  Crewe  on 
Friday  fortnight?  I  have  heard  of  a  lodging  near 
Capel  Curig  which  sounds  delightful.  We  might 
do  a  week's  climbing  and  then  go  on  to  the  sea. 
I  really  shall  want  a  holiday.  Has  there  not  been 
ten  minutes  even — since  you  arrived — to  write  a 
letter  inf — or  a  postcard?  Shall  I  send  you  a  few 
addressed  ? 

Having  thus  finished  what  seemed  to 
her  the  dullest  letter  she  had  ever  writ- 
ten in  her  life,  she  looked  at  it  a  while, 
irresolutely,  then  put  it  in  an  envelope 
hastily,  addressed,  stamped  it,  and  rang 
the  bell  for  Jane  to  run  across  the  street 
with  it  and  post  it.  After  which,  she  sat 
idle  a  little  while  with  flushed  cheeks, 
while  the  twilight  gathered. 

The  gate  of  the  trim  front  garden 
swung  on  its  hinges.  Doris  turned  to 
look.  She  saw,  to  her  astonishment,  that 
the  girl-accountant  of  the  morning,  Miss 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         111 

Wigram,  was  coming  up  the  flagged  path 
to  the  house.  What  could  she  want? 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Meadows — I'm  so  sorry  to 
disturb  you — "  said  the  visitor,  in  some 
agitation,  as  Doris,  summoned  by  Jane, 
entered  the  dust-sheeted  drawing-room. 
"But  you  dropped  an  envelope  with  an 
address  this  afternoon.  I  picked  it  up 
with  some  of  my  papers  and  never  dis- 
covered it  till  I  got  home. ' ' 

She  held  out  the  envelope.  Doris 
took  it,  and  flushed  vividly.  It  was  the 
envelope  with  his  Scotch  address  which 
Arthur  had  written  out  for  her  before 
leaving  home — "care  of  the  Lord  Dun- 
stable,  Franick  Castle,  Pitlochry,  Perth- 
shire, N.B."  She  had  put  it  in  her 
portfolio,  out  of  which  it  had  no  doubt 
slipped  while  she  was  at  work. 

She  and  Miss  Wigram  eyed  each 
other.  The  girl  was  evidently  agitated. 
But  she  seemed  not  to  know  how  to  be- 
gin what  she  had  to  say. 

Doris  broke  the  silence. 


112         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

"You  were  astonished  to  find  that  I 
know  the  Dunstables!" 

"Oh,  no!— I  didn't  think—"  stam- 
mered her  visitor — "I  supposed  some 
friend  of  yours  might  be  staying  there. ' ' 

"My  husband  is.  staying  there,"  said 
Doris,  quietly.  Really  it  was  too  much 
trouble  to  tell  a  falsehood.  Her  pride 
refused. 

"Oh,  I  see!"  cried  Miss  Wigram, 
though  in  fact  she  was  more  bewildered 
than  before.  Why  should  this  extraor- 
dinary little  lady  have  behaved  at  the 
studio  as  if  she  had  never  heard  of  the 
Dunstables,  and  be  now  confessing  that 
her  husband  was  actually  staying  in  their 
house? 

Doris  smiled — with  perfect  self-pos- 
session. 

"Please  sit  down.  You  think  it  odd, 
of  course,  that  I  didn't  tell  you  I  knew 
the  Dunstables,  while  we  were  talking 
about  them.  The  fact  is  I  didn't  want 
to  be  mixed  up  with  the  affair  at  all. 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS         113 

We  have  only  lately  made  acquaintance 
with  the  Dunstables.  Lady  Dunstable 
is  my  husband's  friend.  I  don't  like  her 
very  much.  But  neither  of  us  knows  her 
well  enough  to  go  and  tell  her  tales  about 
her  son." 

Miss  Wigram  considered — her  gentle, 
troubled  eyes  bent  upon  Doris.  "Of 
course — I  know — how  many  people  dis- 
like Lady  Dunstable.  She  did  a — rather 
cruel  thing  to  me  once.  The  thought  of 
it  humiliated  and  discouraged  me  for  a 
long  time.  It  made  me  almost  glad  to 
leave  home.  And  of  course  she  hasn't 
won  Mr.  Herbert's  confidence  at  all. 
She  has  always  snubbed  and  disap- 
proved of  him.  Oh,  I  knew  him  very 
little.  I  have  hardly  ever  spoken  to 
him.  You  saw  he  didn't  recognise  me 
this  afternoon.  But  my  father  used  to 
go  over  to  Crosby  Ledgers  to  coach  him 
in  the  holidays,  and  he  often  told  me  that 
as  a  boy  he  was  terrified  of  his  mother. 
She  either  took  no  notice  of  him  at  all, 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

or  she  was  always  sneering  at  him,  and 
scolding  him.  As  soon  as  ever  he  came 
of  age  and  got  a  little  money  of  his  own, 
he  declared  he  wouldn't  live  at  home. 
His  father  wanted  him  to  go  into  Parlia- 
ment or  the  army,  but  he  said  he  hated 
the  army,  and  if  he  was  such  a  dolt  as 
his  mother  thought  him  it  would  be  ri- 
diculous to  attempt  politics.  And  so  he 
just  drifted  up  to  town  and  looked  out 
for  people  that  would  make  much  of  him, 
and  wouldn't  snub  him.  And  that,  of 
course,  was  how  he  got  into  the  toils  of 
a  woman  like  that!" 

The  girl  threw  up  her  hands  tragically. 

Doris  sat  up,  with  energy. 

"But  what  on  earth,"  she  said,  "does 
it  matter  to  you  or  to  me  T ' 

"Oh,  can't  you  see?"  said  the  other, 
flushing  deeply,  and  with  the  tears  in  her 
eyes.  "My  father  had  one  of  Lord 
Dunstable's  livings.  We  lived  on  that 
estate  for  years.  Everybody  loved 
Lord  Dunstable.  And  though  Lady 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         115 

Dunstable  makes  enemies,  there's  a 
great  respect  for  the  family.  They've 
been  there  since  Queen  Elizabeth's 
time.  And  it's  dreadful  to  think  of  a 
woman  like — well,  like  that! — reigning 
at  Crosby  Ledgers.  I  think  of  the  poor 
people.  Lady  Dunstable 's  good  to  them ; 
though  of  course  you  wouldn't  hear  any- 
thing about  it,  unless  you  lived  there. 
She  tries  to  do  her  duty  to  them — she 
really  does — in  her  own  way.  And,  of 
course,  they  respect  her.  No  Dunstable 
has  ever  done  anything  disgraceful! 
Isn't  there  something  in  'Noblesse 
oblige'?  Think  of  this  woman  at  the 
head  of  that  estate!" 

"Well,  upon  my  word,"  said  Doris, 
after  a  pause,  "you  are  feudal.  Don't 
you  feel  yourself  that  you  are  old-fash- 
ioned?" 

Mrs.  Meadows 's  half-sarcastic  look  at 
first  intimidated  her  visitor,  and  then 
spurred  her  into  further  attempts  to  ex- 
plain herself. 


116         A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

"I  daresay  it's  old-fashioned,"  she 
said  slowly,  "but  I'm  sure  it's  what 
father  would  have  felt.  Anyway,  I  went 
off  to  try  and  find  out  what  I  could.  I 
went  first  to  a  little  club  I  belong 
to — for  professional  women — near  the 
Strand,  and  I  asked  one  or  two  women 
I  found  there — who  know  artists — and 
models — and  write  for  papers.  And 
very  soon  I  found  out  a  great  deal.  I 
didn't  have  to  go  to  the  man  whose  ad- 
dress Mr.  Bentley  gave  me.  Madame 
Vavasour  is  a  horrid  woman!  This  is 
not  the  first  young  man  she's  fleeced — 
by  a  long  way.  There  was  a  man — 
younger  than  Mr.  Dunstable,  a  boy  of 
nineteen — three  years  ago.  She  got  him 
to  promise  to  marry  her ;  and  the  parents 
came  down,  and  paid  her  enormously  to 
let  him  go.  Now  she's  got  through  all 
that  money,  and  she  boasts  she's  going 
to  marry  young  Dunstable  before  his 
parents  know  anything  about  it.  She's 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         117 

going  to  make  sure  of  a  peerage  this 
time.  Oh,  she's  odious!  She's  greedy, 
she's  vulgar,  she's  false!  And  of 
course" — the  girl's  eyes  grew  wide  and 
scared — "  there  may  be  other  things 
much  worse.  How  do  we  know?" 

"How  do  we  know  indeed!"  said 
Doris,  with  a  shrug.  "Well!" — she 
turned  her  eyes  full  upon  her  guest — 
"and  what  are  you  going  to  do!" 

An  eager  look  met  hers. 

"Couldn't  you — couldn't  you  write  to 
Mr.  Meadows,  and  ask  him  to  warn  Lady 
Dunstable?" 

Doris  shook  her  head. 

"Why  don't  you  do  it  yourself?" 

The  girl  flushed  uncomfortably.  '  *  You 
see,  father  quarrelled  with  her  about 
that  unkind  thing  she  did  to  me — oh,  it 
isn't  worth  telling! — but  he  wrote  her 
an  angry  letter,  and  they  never  spoke 
afterwards.  Lady  Dunstable  never  for- 
gives that  kind  of  thing.  If  people  find 


118         A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

fault  with  her,  she  just  drops  them.  I 
don't  believe  she'd  read  a  letter  from 
me!" 

"Les  offenses,  etc.,"  said  Doris,  medi- 
tating. "But  what  are  the  facts?  Has 
the  boy  actually  promised  to  marry  her? 
She  may  have  been  telling  lies  to  my 
uncle." 

"She  tells  everybody  so.  I  saw  a  girl 
who  knows  her  quite  well.  They  write 
for  the  same  paper — it's  a  fashion  paper. 
You  saw  that  hat,  by  the  way,  she  had 
on?  She  gets  them  as  perquisites 
from  the  smart  shops  she  writes  about. 
She  has  a  whole  cupboard  of  them  at 
home,  and  when  she  wants  money  she 
sells  them  for  what  she  can  get.  Well, 
she  told  me  that  Madame — they  all  call 
her  Madame,  though  they  all  know  quite 
well  that  she's  not  married,  and  that  her 
name  is  Flink — boasts  perpetually  of  her 
engagement.  It  seems  that  he  was  ill 
in  the  winter — in  his  lodgings.  His 
mother  knew  nothing  about  it  —  he 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         119 

wouldn't  tell  her,  and  Madame  nursed 
him,  and  made  a  fuss  of  him.  And  Mr. 
Dunstable  thought  he  owed  her  a  great 
deal — and  she  made  scenes  and  told  him 
she  had  compromised  herself  by  coming 
to  nurse  him — and  all  that  kind  of  non- 
sense. And  at  last  he  promised  to 
marry  her — in  writing.  And  now  she's 
so  sure  of  him  that  she  just  bullies  him 
— you  saw  how  she  ordered  him  about 
to-day. " 

"Well,  why  doesn't  he  marry  her,  if 
he's  such  a  fool — why  hasn't  he  married 
her  long  ago?"  cried  Doris. 

Miss  Wigram  looked  distressed. 

"I  don't  know.  My  friend  thinks  it's 
his  father.  She  believes,  at  least,  that 
he  doesn't  want  to  get  married  without 
telling  Lord  Dunstable;  and  that,  of 
course,  means  telling  his  mother.  And 
he  hates  the  thought  of  the  letters  and 
the  scenes.  So  he  keeps  it  hanging  on; 
and  lately  Madame  has  been  furious 
with  him,  and  is  always  teasing  and 


120         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

sniffing  at  him.  He's  dreadfully  weak, 
and  my  friend's  afraid  that  before  he's 
made  up  his  own  mind  what  to  do  that 
woman  will  have  carried  him  off  to  a 
registry  office — and  got  the  horrid  thing 
done  for  good  and  all." 

There  was  silence  a  moment.  After 
which  Doris  said,  with  a  cold  decision: 

"You  can't  imagine  how  absurd  it 
seems  to  me  that  you  should  come  and 
ask  me  to  help  Lady  Dunstable  with  her 
son.  There  is  nobody  in  the  world  less 
helpless  than  Lady  Dunstable,  and  no- 
body who  would  be  less  grateful  for  be- 
ing helped.  I  really  cannot  meddle  with 
it." 

She  rose  as  she  spoke,  and  Miss  Wig- 
ram  rose  too. 

"Couldn't  you — couldn't  you — "  said 
the  girl  pleadingly — "just  ask  Mr.  Mead- 
ows to  warn  Lord  Dunstable?  I'm 
thinking  of  the  villagers,  and  the  farm- 
ers, and  the  schools — all  the  people  we 
used  to  love.  Father  was  there  twenty 


A  GBEAT  SUCCESS         121 

years !  To  think  of  the  dear  place  given 
over — some  day — to  that  creature ! '  ' 

Her  charming  eyes  actually  filled  with 
tears.  Doris  was  touched,  but  at  the 
same  time  set  on  edge.  This  loyalty 
that  people  born  and  bred  in  the  coun- 
try feel  to  our  English  country  system 
— what  an  absurd  and  unreal  frame  of 
mind!  And  when  our  country  system 
produces  Lady  Dunstables!  . 

"They  have  such  a  pull!"  —  she 
thought  angrily — "such  a  hideously  un- 
fair pull,  over  other  people!  The  way 
everybody  rushes  to  help  them  when 
they  get  into  a  mess — to  pick  up  the 
pieces — and  sweep  it  all  up!  It's  irra- 
tional— it's  sickening!  Let  them  look 
after  themselves — and  pay  for  their  own 
misdeeds  like  the  rest  of  us." 

"I  can't  interfere — I  really  can't!" 
she  said,  straightening  her  slim  shoul- 
ders. "It  is  not  as  though  we  were  old 
friends  of  Lord  and  Lady  Dunstable. 
Don't  you  see  how  very  awkward  it 


122         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

would  be?  Let  me  advise  you  just  to 
watch  the  thing  a  little,  and  then  to  ap- 
ply to  somebody  in  the  Crosby  Ledgers 
neighbourhood.  You  must  have  some 
friends  or  acquaintances  there,  who  at 
any  rate  could  do  more  than  we  could. 
And  perhaps  after  all  it's  a  mare's  nest, 
and  the  young  man  doesn't  mean  to 
marry  her  at  all!" 

The  girl's  anxious  eyes  scanned 
Doris's  unyielding  countenance;  then 
with  a  sigh  she  gave  up  her  attempt,  and 
said  "Good-bye."  Doris  went  with  her 
to  the  door. 

"We  shall  meet  to-morrow,  shan't 
we?"  she  said,  feeling  a  vague  compunc- 
tion. "And  I  suppose  this  woman  will 
be  there  again.  You  can  keep  an  eye  on 
her.  Are  you  living  alone — or  are  you 
with  friends  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  I'm  in  a  boarding-house,"  said 
Miss  Wigram,  hastily.  Then  as  though 
she  recognised  the  new  softness  in 
Doris's  look,  she  added,  "I'm  quite  com- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         123 

fortable  there — and  I've  a  great  deal  of 
work.  Good  night." 

"All  alone! — with  that  gentle  face — 
and  that  terrible  amount  of  conscience 
• — hard  lines!"  thought  Doris,  as  she  re- 
flected on  her  visitor.  "I  felt  a  black 
imp  beside  her!" 

All  the  same,  the  letter  which  Mrs. 
Meadows  received  by  the  following 
morning's  post  was  not  at  all  calculated 
to  melt  the  "black  imp"  further.  Ar- 
thur wrote  in  a  great  hurry  to  beg  that 
she  would  not  go  on  with  their  Welsh 
plans — for  the  moment. 

Lady  D has  insisted  on  my  going  on  a  short 

yachting  cruise  with  her  and  Miss  Field,  the  week 
after  next.  She  wants  to  show  me  the  West 
Coast,  and  they  have  a  small  cottage  in  the  Shet- 
lands  where  we  should  stay  a  night  or  two  and 
watch  the  sea-birds.  It  may  keep  me  away  another 
week  or  fortnight,  but  you  won't  mind,  dear,  will 
you1?  I  am  getting  famously  rested,  and  really 
the  house  is  very  agreeable.  In  these  surround- 
ings Lady  Dunstable  is  less  of  the  bas-bleu,  and 
more  of  the  woman.  You  must  make  up  your 
mind  to  come  another  year!  You  would  soon  get 


124         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

over  your  prejudice  and  make  friends  with  her. 
She  looks  after  us  all — she  talks  brilliantly — and 
I  haven't  seen  her  rude  to  anybody  since  I  arrived. 
There  are  some  very  nice  people  here,  and  alto- 
gether I  am  enjoying  it.  Don't  you  work  too  hard 
— and  don't  let  the  servants  harry  you.  Post  just 
going.  Good  night! 

Another  week  or  fortnight !  —  five 
weeks,  or  nearly,  altogether.  Doris  was 
sorely  wounded.  She  went  to  look  at 
herself  in  the  mirror  over  the  chimney- 
piece.  "Was  she  not  thin  and  haggard 
for  want  of  rest  and  holiday?  Would 
not  the  summer  weather  be  all  done  by 
the  time  Arthur  graciously  condescended 
to  come  back  to  her?  Were  there  not 
dark  lines  under  her  eyes,  and  was  she 
not  feeling  a  limp  and  wretched  crea- 
ture, unfit  for  any  exertion?  What  was 
wrong  with  her?  She  hated  her  draw- 
ing— she  hated  everything.  And  there 
was  Arthur,  proposing  to  go  yachting 
with  Lady  Dunstable ! — while  she  might 
toil  and  moil — all  alone — in  this  August 
London!  The  tears  rushed  into  her 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS         125 

eyes.    Her  pride  only  just  saved  her 
from  a  childish  fit  of  crying. 

But  in  the  end  resentment  came  to  her 
aid,  together  with  an  angry  and  re- 
doubled curiosity  as  to  what  might  he 
happening  to  Lady  Dunstable 's  precious 
son  while  Lady  Dunstable  was  thus  ab- 
sorbed in  robbing  other  women  of  their 
husbands.  Doris  hurried  her  small 
household  affairs,  that  she  might  get  off 
early  to  the  studio;  and  as  she  put  on 
her  hat,  her  fancy  drew  vindictive  pic- 
tures of  the  scene  which  any  day  might 
realise — the  scene  at  Franick  Castle, 
when  Lady  Dunstable,  unsuspecting, 
should  open  the  letter  which  announced 
to  her  the  advent  of  her  daughter-in- 
law,  Elena,  nee  Flink— or  should  gather 
the  same  unlovely  fact  from  a  casual 
newspaper  paragraph.  As  for  inter- 
fering between  her  and  her  rich  deserts, 
Doris  vowed  to  herself  she  would  not 
lift  a  finger.  That  incredibly  forgiving 
young  woman,  Miss  Wigram,  might  do 


126         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

as  she  pleased.  But  when  a  mother  pur- 
sues her  own  selfish  ends  so  as  to  make 
her  only  son  dislike  and  shun  her,  let 
her  take  what  comes.  It  was  in  the 
mood  of  an  Erinnys  that  Doris  made  her 
way  northwards  to  Campden  Hill,  and 
nobody  perceiving  the  slight  erect  figure 
in  the  corner  of  the  omnibus  could  pos- 
sibly have  guessed  at  the  storm  within. 
The  August  day  was  hot  and  lifeless. 
Heat  mist  lay  over  the  park,  and  over 
the  gardens  on  the  slopes  of  Campden 
Hill.  Doris  could  hardly  drag  her 
weary  feet  along,  as  she  walked  from 
where  the  omnibus  had  set  her  down  to 
her  uncle's  studio.  But  it  was  soon  evi- 
dent that  within  the  studio  itself  there 
was  animation  enough.  From  the  long 
passage  approaching  it  Doris  heard 
someone  shouting  —  declaiming  —  what 
appeared  to  be  verse.  Madame,  of 
course,  reciting  her  own  poems — poor 
Uncle  Charles!  Doris  stopped  outside 
the  door,  which  was  slightly  open,  to  lis- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         127 

ten,  and  heard  these  astonishing  lines — 
delivered  very  slowly  and  pompously,  in 
a  thick,  strained  voice : 

"My  heart  is  adamant!    The  tear-drops  drip  and 

drip — 
Force  their  slow  path,  and  tear  their  desperate 

way. 
The  vulture  Pain  sits  close,  to  snip — and  snip — 

and  snip 

My  sad,  sweet  life  to  ruin — well-a-day! 
I  am  deceived — a  bleating  lamb  bereft ! — who  goes 
Baa-baaing  to  the  moon  o'er  lonely  lands. 
Through  all  my  shivering  veins  a  tender  fervour 

flows; 
I  cry  to  Love — 'Reach  out,  my  Lord,  thy  hands ! 

And  save  me  from  these  ugly  beasts  who  ramp  and 

rage 

Around  me  all  day  long — beasts  fell  and  sore — 
Envy,  and  Hate,  and  Calumny! — do  thou  assuage 
Their  impious  mouths,  0  splendid  Love,  and  floor 
Their  hideous  tactics,  and  their  noisome  spleen, 
Withering    to     dust     the    awful     "Might-Have- 

Been !" ' " 

" Goodness!  'Howls  the  Sublime*  in- 
deed!" thought  Doris,  gurgling  with 
laughter  in  the  passage.  As  soon  as  she 
had  steadied  her  face  she  opened  the 


128         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

studio  door,  and  perceived  Lady  Dun- 
stable's  prospective  daughter-in-law 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  studio, 
head  thrown  back  and  hands  out- 
stretched, invoking  the  Cyprian.  The 
shriek  of  the  first  lines  had  died  away  in 
a  stage  whisper ;  the  reciter  was  glaring 
fiercely  into  vacancy. 

Doris's  merry  eyes  devoured  the 
scene.  On  the  chair  from  which  the 
model  had  risen  she  had  deposited  yet 
another  hat,  so  large,  so  audacious  and 
beplumed  that  it  seemed  to  have  a  posi- 
tive personality,  a  positive  swagger  of 
its  own,  and  to  be  winking  roguishly  at 
the  audience.  Meanwhile  Madame 's 
muslin  dress  of  the  day  before  had  been 
exchanged  for  something  mere  appro- 
priate to  the  warmth  of  her  poetry — a 
tawdry  flame-coloured  satin,  in  which 
her  "too,  too  solid"  frame  was  tightly 
sheathed.  Her  coal-black  hair,  tragic- 
ally wild,  looked  as  though  no  comb  had 
been  near  it  for  a  month,  and  the  gloves 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         129 

drawn  half-way  up  the  bare  arms  hardly 
remembered  they  had  ever  been  white. 

A  slovenly,  dishevelled,  vulgar  woman, 
reciting  bombastic  nonsense!  And  yet! 
— a  touch  of  Southern  magnificence, 
even  of  Southern  grace,  amid  the  cock- 
ney squalor  and  finery.  Doris  coolly 
recognised  it,  as  she  stood,  herself  in- 
visible, behind  her  uncle's  large  easel. 
Thence  she  perceived  also  the  other  per- 
sons in  the  studio: — Bentley  sitting  in 
front  of  the  poetess,  hiding  his  eyes  with 
one  hand,  and  nervously  tapping  the  arm 
of  his  chair  with  the  other;  to  the  right 
of  him — seen  sideways — the  lanky  form, 
flushed  face,  and  open  mouth  of  young 
Dunstable ;  and  in  the  far  distance,  Miss 
Wigram. 

Then — a  surprising  thing!  The  awk- 
ward pause  following  the  recitation  was 
suddenly  broken  by  a  loud  and  uncon- 
trollable laugh.  Doris,  startled,  turned 
to  look  at  young  Dunstable.  For  it  was 
he  who  had  laughed.  Madame  also 


130         A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

shook  off  her  stage  trance  to  look — a 
thunderous  frown  upon  her  handsome 
face.  The  young  man  laughed  on — 
laughed  hysterically — burying  his  face 
in  his  hands.  Madame  Vavasour — all 
attitudes  thrown  aside — ran  up  to  him  in 
a  fury. 

"Why  are  you  laughing?  You  insult 
me! — you  have  done  it  before.  And 
now  before  strangers — it  is  too  much !  I 
insist  that  you  explain!"1 

She  stood  over  him,  her  eyes  blazing. 
The  youth,  still  convulsed,  did  his  best 
to  quiet  the  paroxysm  which  had  seized 
him,  and  at  last  said,  gasping: 

"I  was — I  was  thinking — of  your  re- 
citing that  at  Crosby  Ledgers — to  my 
mother — and — and  what  she  would  say." 

Even  under  her  rouge  it  could  be  seen 
that  the  poetess  turned  a  grey  white. 

"And  pray — what  would  she  say?" 

The  question  was  delivered  with  ap- 
parent calm.  But  Madame 's  eyes  were 
dangerous.  Doris  stepped  forward.  Her 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         131 

uncle  stayed  her  with  a  gesture.  He 
himself  rose,  but  Madame  fiercely  waved 
him  aside.  Miss  Wigram,  in  the  distance, 
had  also  moved  forward — and  paused. 
!  "What  would  she  say?"  demanded 
Madame,  again — at  the  sword's  point. 

"I — I  don't  know — "  said  young  Dun- 
stable,  helplessly,  still  shaking.  "I — I 
think — she'd  laugh." 

And  he  went  off  again,  hysterically, 
trying  in  vain  to  stop  the  fit.  Madame 
bit  her  lip.  Then  came  a  torrent  of  Ital- 
ian— evidently  a  torrent  of  abuse;  and 
then  she  lifted  a  gloved  hand  and  struck 
the  young  man  violently  on  the  cheek. 

"Take  that! — you  insolent — you — you 
barbarian!  You  are  my  fiance, — my 
promised  husband — and  you  mock  at  me ; 
you  will  encourage  your  stuck-up  mother 
to  mock  at  me — I  know  you  will  I  But  I 
tell  you — " 

The  speaker,  however,  had  stopped 
abruptly,  and  instead  of  saying  any- 
thing more  she  fell  back  panting,  her 


132         A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

eyes  on  the  young  man.  For  Herbert 
Dunstable  had  risen.  At  the  blow,  an 
amazing  change  had  passed  over  his 
weak  countenance  and  weedy  frame. 
He  put  his  hand  to  his  forehead  a  mo- 
ment, as  though  trying  to  collect  his 
thoughts,  and  then  he  turned — quietly — 
to  look  for  his  hat  and  stick. 

" Where  are  you  going,  Herbert!" 
stammered  Madame.  "I — I  was  car- 
ried away — I  forgot  myself ! ' ' 

"I  think  not,"  said  the  young  man, 
who  was  extremely  pale.  "This  is  not 
the  first  time.  I  bid  you  good  morning, 
Madame — and  good-bye!" 

He  stood  looking  at  the  now  fright- 
ened woman,  with  a  strange,  surprised 
look,  like  one  just  emerging  from  a  semi- 
conscious state;  and  in  that  moment,  as 
Doris  seemed  to  perceive,  the  traditions 
of  his  birth  and  breeding  had  returned 
upon  him;  something  instinctive  and  in- 
herited had  reappeared;  and  the  gentle- 
manly, easy-going  father,  who  yet,  as 


A  GBEAT  SUCCESS         133 

Doris  remembered,  when  matters  were 
serious  "always  got  his  way,"  was  there 
— strangely  there — in  the  degenerate  son. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  repeated 
Madame,  eyeing  him.  "You  promised 
to  give  me  lunch." 

"I  regret — I  have  an  engagement. 
Mr.  Bentley — when  the  sitting  is  over — 
will  you  kindly  see — Miss  Flink — into 
a  taxi?  I  thank  you  very  much  for  al- 
lowing me  to  come  and  watch  your  work. 
I  trust  the  picture  will  be  a  success. 
Good-bye!" 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  Bentley,  and 
bowed  to  Doris.  Madame  made  a  rush 
at  him.  But  Bentley  held  her  back. 
He  seized  her  arms,  indeed,  quietly  but 
irresistibly,  while  the  young  man  made 
his  retreat.  Then,  with  a  shriek,  Ma- 
dame fell  back  on  her  chair,  pretending 
to  faint,  and  Bentley,  in  no  hurry,  went 
to  her  assistance,  while  Doris  slipped  out 
after  young  Dunstable.  She  overtook 
him  on  the  door-step. 


134         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

"Mr.  Dunstable,  may  I  speak  to  you?" 

He  turned  in  astonishment,  showing 
a  grim  pallor  which  touched  her  pity. 

"I  know  your  mother  and  father," 
said  Doris  hurriedly;  "at  least  my  hus- 
band and  I  were  staying  at  Crosby 
Ledges  some  weeks  ago,  and  my  husband 
is  now  in  Scotland  with  your  people. 
His  name  is  Arthur  Meadows.  I  am 
Mrs.  Meadows.  I — I  don't  know 
whether  I  could  help  you.  You  seem" 
— her  smile  flashed  out — "to  be  in  a  hor- 
rid mess!" 

The  young  man  looked  in  perplexity 
at  the  small,  trim  lady  before  him,  as 
though  realising  her  existence  for  the 
first  time.  Her  honest  eyes  were  bent 
upon  him  with  the  same  expression  she 
had  often  worn  when  Arthur  had  come 
to  her  with  some  confession  of  folly — 
the  expression  which  belongs  to  the  ma- 
ternal side  of  women,  and  is  at  once 
mocking  and  sweet.  It  said — "Of 
course  you  are  a  great  fool ! — most  men 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         135 

are.  But  that's  the  raison  d'etre  of  wom- 
en !  Suppose  we  go  into  the  business ! ' ' 
"  You  're  very  kind — "  he  groaned — 
' '  awfully  kind.  I  'm  ashamed  you  should 
have  seen — such  a  thing.  Nobody  can 
help  me — thank  you  very  much.  I  am 
engaged  to  that  lady — I've  promised  to 
marry  her.  Oh,  she's  got  any  amount 
of  evidence.  I've  been  an  ass — and 
worse.  But  I  can't  get  out  of  it.  I 
don't  mean  to  try  to  get  out  of  it.  I 
promised  of  my  own  free  will.  Only 
I've  found  out  now  I  can  never  live  with 
her.  Her  temper  is  fiendish.  It  de- 
grades her — and  me.  But  you  saw! 
She  has  made  my  life  a  burden  to  me 
lately,  because  I  wouldn't  name  a  day 
for  us  to  be  married.  I  wanted  to  see 
my  father  quietly  first — without  my 
mother  knowing — and  I  have  been  think- 
ing how  to  manage  it — and  funking  it  of 
course — I  always  do  funk  things.  But 
what  she  did  just  now  has  settled  it — it 
has  been  blowing  up  for  a  long  time.  I 


136         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

shall  marry  her — at  a  registry  office — as 
soon  as  possible.  Then  I  shall  separate 
from  her,  and — I  hope — never  see  her 
again.  The  lawyers  will  arrange  that — 
and  money!  Thank  you — it's  awfully 
good  of  you  to  want  to  help  me — but  you 
can't — nobody  can." 

Doris  had  drawn  her  companion  into 
her  uncle's  small  dining-room  and  closed 
the  door.  She  listened  to  his  burst  of 
confidence  with  a  puzzled  concern. 

"Why  must  you  marry  her?"  she  said 
abruptly,  when  he  paused.  "Break  it 
off !  It  would  be  far  best. ' ' 

"No.  I  promised.  I — "  he  stam- 
mered a  little — "I  seem  to  have  done  her 
harm — her  reputation,  I  mean.  There 
is  only  one  thing  could  let  me  off.  She 
swore  to  me  that — well ! — that  she  was  a 
good  woman — that  there  was  nothing  in 
her  past — you  understand — " 

"And  you  know  of  nothing?"  said 
Doris,  gravely. 

"Nothing.    And  you  don't  think  I'm 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         137 

going  to  try  and  ferret  out  things 
against  her!"  cried  the  youth,  flushing. 
"No — I  must  just  bear  it." 

"It's  your  parents  that  will  have  to 
bear  it!" 

His  face  hardened. 

"My  mother  might  have  prevented 
it,"  he  said  bitterly.  "However,  I 
won't  go  into  that.  My  father  will  see  I 
couldn't  do  anything  else.  I'd  better 
get  it  over.  I'm  going  to  my  lawyers 
now.  They'll  take  a  few  days  over  what 
I  want. ' ' 

"You'll  tell  your  father?" 

"I — I  don't  know,"  he  said,  irreso- 
lutely. She  noticed  that  he  did  not  try 
to  pledge  her  not  to  give  him  away. 
And  she,  on  her  side,  did  not  threaten  to 
do  so.  She  argued  with  him  a  little 
more,  trying  to  get  at  his  real  thoughts, 
and  to  straighten  them  out  for  him.  But 
it  was  evident  he  had  made  up  such  mind 
as  he  had,  and  that  his  sudden  resolu- 
tion— even  the  ugly  scene  which  had 


138        A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

made  Mm  take  it — had  been  a  relief. 
He  knew  at  last  where  he  stood. 

So  presently  Doris  let  him  go.  They 
parted,  liking  each  other  decidedly.  He 
thanked  her  warmly — though  drearily — 
for  taking  an  interest  in  him,  and  he  said 
to  her  on  the  threshold : 

"Some  day,  I  hope,  you'll  come  to 
Crosby  Ledgers  again,  Mrs.  Meadows — 
and  I'll  be  there— for  once!  Then  I'll 
tell  you — if  you  care — more  about  it. 
Thanks  awfully!  Good-bye." 

Later  on,  when  "Miss  Flink,"  in  a 
state  of  sulky  collapse,  had  been  sent 
home  in  her  taxi,  Doris,  Bentley,  and 
Miss  Wigram  held  a  conference.  But  it 
came  to  little.  Bentley,  the  hater  of 
"rows,"  simply  could  not  be  moved  to 
take  the  thing  up.  "I  kept  her  from 
scalping  him! — "  he  laughed — "and  I'm 
not  due  for  any  more!"  Doris  said  lit- 
tle. A  whirl  of  arguments  and  projects 
were  in  her  mind.  But  she  kept  her  own 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         139 

counsel  about  them.  As  to  the  possibil- 
ity of  inducing  the  man  to  break  it  off, 
she  repeated  the  only  condition  on  which 
it  could  be  done ;  at  which  Uncle  Charles 
laughed,  and  Alice  Wigram  fell  into  a 
long  and  thoughtful  silence. 

Doris  arrived  at  home  rather  early. 
What  with  the  emotions  of  the  day,  the 
heat,  and  her  work,  she  was  strangely 
tired  and  over-done.  After  tea  she 
strolled  out  into  Kensington  Gardens, 
and  sat  under  the  shade  of  trees  already 
autumnal,  watching  the  multitude  of 
children — children  of  the  people — enjoy- 
ing the  nation's  park  all  to  themselves, 
in  the  complete  absence  of  their  social 
betters.  What  ducks  they  were,  some  of 
them! — the  little,  grimy,  round-faced 
things — rolling  on  the  grass,  or  toddling 
after  their  sisters  and  brothers.  They 
turned  large,  inquisitive  eyes  upon  her, 
which  seemed  to  tease  her  heart-strings. 

And  suddenly, — it  was  in  Kensington 


140         A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

Gardens  that  out  of  the  heart  of  a  long 
and  vague  reverie  there  came  a  flash — 
an  illumination — which  wholly  changed 
the  life  and  future  of  Doris  Meadows. 
After  the  thought  in  which  it  took  shape 
had  seized  upon  her,  she  sat  for  some 
time  motionless ;  then  rising  to  her  feet, 
tottering  a  little,  like  one  in  bewilder- 
ment, she  turned  northwards,  and  made 
her  way  hurriedly  towards  Lancaster 
Gate.  In  a  house  there,  lived  a  lady,  a 
widowed  lady,  who  was  Doris's  god- 
mother, and  to  whom  Doris — who  had 
lost  her  own  mother  in  her  childhood — 
had  turned  for  counsel  before  now. 
How  long  it  was  since  she  had  seen 
"Cousin  Julia  "I — nearly  two  months. 
And  here  she  was,  hastening  to  her,  and 
not  able  to  bear  the  thought  that  in  all 
human  probability  Cousin  Julia  was  not 
in  town. 

But,  by  good  luck,  Doris  found  her 
godmother,  perching  in  London  between 
a  Devonshire  visit  and  a  Scotch  one. 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         141 

They  talked  long,  and  Doris  walked 
slowly  home  across  the  park.  A  glory 
of  spreading  sun  lay  over  the  grassy 
glades;  the  Serpentine  held  reflections 
of  a  sky  barred  with  rose ;  London,  trans- 
figured, seemed  a  city  of  pearl  and  fire. 
And  in  Doris's  heart  there  was  a  glory 
like  that  of  the  evening, — and,  like  the 
burning  sky,  bearing  with  it  a  promise 
of  fair  days  to  come.  The  glory  and  the 
promise  stole  through  all  her  thoughts, 
softening  and  transmuting  everything. 

"When  he  grows  up — if  he  were  to 
marry  such  a  woman — and  I  didn't  know 
— if  all  /MS  life — and  mine — were  spoilt 
— and  nobody  said  a  word !" 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She 
seemed  to  be  walking  with  Arthur 
through  a  world  of  beauty,  hand  in  hand. 

How  many  hours  to  Pitlochry!  She 
ran  into  the  Kensington  house,  asking 
for  railway  guides,  and  peremptorily 
telling  Jane  to  get  down  the  small  suit- 
case from  the  box-room  at  once. 


PART  III 
CHAPTER  V 

"  <r>ARBARIANS,  Philistines,  Pop- 
JL>  ulace!'  " 

The  young  golden-haired  man  of  let- 
ters who  was  lounging  on  the  grass 
beside  Arthur  Meadows  repeated  the 
words  to  himself  in  an  absent  voice, 
turning  over  the  pages  meanwhile  of  a 
book  lying  before  him,  as  though  in 
search  of  a  passage  he  had  noticed  and 
lost.  He  presently  found  it  again,  and 
turned  laughing  towards  Meadows,  who 
was  trifling  with  a  French  novel. 

"Do  you  remember  this  passage  in 
Culture  and  Anarchy — 'I  often,  there- 
fore, when  I  want  to  distinguish  clearly 
the  aristocratic  class  from  the  Philis- 
tines proper,  or  middle  class,  name  the 
former,  in  my  own  mind,  the  Barbarians. 

142 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         14a 

And  when  I  go  through  the  country,  and 
see  this  or  that  beautiful  and  imposing 
seat  of  theirs  crowning  the  landscape, 
1 1 There, "  I  say  to  myself,  "is  a  great 
fortified  post  of  the  Barbarians!"  '  " 

The  youth  pointed  smiling  to  the  fine 
Scotch  house  seen  sideways  on  the  other 
side  of  the  lawn.  Its  turreted  and  bat- 
tlemented  front  rose  high  above  the  low 
and  spreading  buildings  which  made  the 
bulk  of  the  house,  so  that  it  was  a  feudal 
castle — by  no  means,  however,  so  old  as 
it  looked — on  a  front  view,  and  a  large 
and  roomy  villa  from  the  rear.  Mead- 
ows, looking  at  it,  appreciated  the  fitness 
of  the  quotation,  and  laughed  in  re- 
sponse. 

"Ungrateful  wretch,"  he  said — "after 
that  dinner  last  night ! ' ' 

"All  the  same,  Matthew  Arnold  had 
that  dinner  in  mind — chef  and  all !  Lis- 
ten !  '  The  graver  self  of  the  Barbarian 
likes  honours  and  consideration;  his 
more  relaxed  self,  field-sports  and  pleas- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

ures.'  Isn't  it  exact?  Grouse-driving 
in  the  morning — bridge,  politics,  Cabi- 
net-making, and  the  best  of  food  in  the 
evening.  And  I  should  put  our  hostess 
very  high — wouldn't  you? — among  the 
chatelaines  of  the  'great  fortified 
posts'?" 

Meadows  assented,  but  rather  lan- 
guidly. The  day  was  extremely  hot ;  he 
was  tired,  moreover,  by  a  long  walk 
with  the  guns  the  d^y  before,  and  by 
conversation  after  dinner,  led  by  Lady 
Dunstable,  which  had  lasted  up  to  nearly 
one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  talk 
had  been  brilliant,  no  doubt.  Meadows, 
however,  did  not  feel  that  he  had  come 
off  very  well  in  it.  His  hostess  had  de- 
liberately pitted  him  against  two  of  the 
ablest  men  in  England,  and  he  was  well 
aware  that  he  had  disappointed  her. 
Lady  Dunstable  had  a  way  of  behaving 
to  her  favourite  author  or  artist  of  the 
moment  as  though  she  were  the  fancier 
and  he  the  cock.  She  fought  him  against 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS         145 

the  other  people's  cocks  with  astonish- 
ing zeal  and  passion;  and  whenever  he 
failed  to  kill,  or  lost  too  many  feathers 
in  the  process,  her  annoyance  was  evi- 
dent. 

Meadows  was  in  truth  becoming  a  lit- 
tle tired  of  her  dictation,  although  it  was 
only  ten  days  since  he  had  arrived  un- 
der her  roof.  There  was  a  large  amount 
of  lethargy  combined  with  his  ability; 
and  he  hated  to  be  obliged  to  live  at  any 
pace  but  his  own.  But  Rachel  Dun- 
stable  was  an  imperious  friend,  never 
tired  herself,  apparently,  either  in  mind 
or  body;  and  those  who  could  not  walk, 
eat,  and  talk  to  please  her  were  apt  to 
know  it.  Her  opinions  too,  both  politi- 
cal and  literary,  were  in  some  directions 
extremely  violent;  and  though,  in  gen- 
eral, argument  and  contradiction  gave 
her  pleasure,  she  had  her  days  and 
moods,  and  Meadows  had  already  suf- 
fered occasional  sets-down,  of  a  kind  to 
which  he  was  not  accustomed. 


146         A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

But  if  he  was — just  a  little — out  of 
love  with  his  new  friend,  in  all  other  re- 
spects he  was  enjoying  himself  enor- 
mously. The  long  days  on  the  moors, 
the  luxurious  life  indoors,  the  changing 
and  generally  agreeable  company,  all 
•the  thousand  easements  and  pleasures 
that  wealth  brings  with  it,  the  skilled 
service,  the  motors,  the  costly  cigars, 
the  wines — there  was  a  Sybarite  in 
Meadows  which  revelled  in  them  all. 
He  had  done  without  them ;  he  would  do 
without  them  again ;  but  there  they  were 
exceedingly  good  creatures  of  God, 
while  they  lasted;  and  only  the  hypo- 
crites pretended  otherwise.  His  sym- 
pathy, in  the  old  poverty-stricken  days, 
would  'have  been  all  with  the  plaintive 

American — "There's  d d  good  times 

in  the  world,  and  I  ain't  in  'em." 

All  the  same,  the  fleshpots  of  Pitlochry 
had  by  no  means  put  his  wife  out  of  his 
mind.  His  incurable  laziness  and  pro- 
crastination in  small  things  had  led  him 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS         147 

to  let  slip  post  after  post ;  but  that  very 
morning,  at  any  rate,  he  had  really  writ- 
ten her  a  decent  letter.  And  he  was  be- 
ginning to  be  anxious  to  hear  from  her 
about  the  yachting  plan.  If  Lady  Dun- 
stable  had  asked  him  a  few  days  later, 
he  was  not  sure  he  would  have  accepted 
so  readily.  After  all,  the  voyage  might 
be  stormy,  and  the  lady — difficult. 
Doris  must  be  dull  in  London, — "poor 
little  cat !" 

But  then  a  very  natural  wrath  re- 
turned upon  him.  Why  on  earth  had 
she  stayed  behind?  No  doubt  Lady 
Dunstable  was  formidable,  but  so  was 
Doris  in  her  own  way.  "She'd  soon 
have  held  her  own.  Lady  D.  would  have 
had  to  come  to  terms!"  However,  he 
remembered  with  some  compunction  that 
Doris  did  seem  to  have  been  a  good  deal 
neglected  at  Crosby  Ledgers,  and  that  he 
had  not  done  much  to  help  her. 

It  was  an  "off"  day  for  the  shooters, 


148         A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

and  Lady  Dunstable's  guests  were  loung- 
ing about  the  garden,  writing  letters  or 
playing  a  little  leisurely  golf  on  the  lower 
reaches  of  the  moor.  Some  of  the  la- 
dies, indeed,  had  not  yet  appeared  down- 
stairs; a  sleepy  heat  reigned  over  the 
valley  with  its  winding  stream,  and 
veiled  the  distant  hills.  Meadows 's  com- 
panion, Ealph  Barrow,  a  young  novelist 
of  promise,  had  gone  fast  asleep  on  the 
grass;  Meadows  was  drowsing  over  his 
book ;  the  dogs  slept  on  the  terrace  steps ; 
and  in  the  summer  silence  the  murmur  of 
the  river  far  below  stole  up  the  hill  on 
which  the  house  stood,  and  its  soft  song 
held  the  air. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  disturbance. 
The  dogs  sprang  up  and  barked.  There 
was  a  firm  step  on  the  gravel.  Lady 
Dunstable,  stick  in  hand,  her  short 
leather-bound  skirt  showing  boots  and 
gaiters  of  the  most  business-like  descrip- 
tion, came  quickly  towards  the  seat  on 
which  Meadows  sat. 


A  GEEAT  SUCCESS         149 

"Mr.  Meadows,  I  summon  you  for  a 
walk!  Sir  Luke  and  Mr.  Frome  are 
coming.  We  propose  to  get  to  the  tarn 
and  back  before  lunch.  ' ' 

The  tarn  was  at  least  two  miles  away, 
a  stiff  climb  over  difficult  moor.  Mead- 
ows, startled  from  something  very  near 
sleep,  looked  up,  and  a  spirit  of  revolt 
seized  upon  him,  provoked  by  the  master- 
ful tone  and  eyes  of  the  lady. 

"Very  sorry,  Lady  Dunstable! — but  I 
must  write  some  letters  before  lunch- 
eon." 

* '  Oh  no ! — put  them  off !  I  have  been 
thinking  of  what  you  told  me  yesterday 
of  your  scheme  for  your  new  set  of  lec- 
tures. I  have  a  great  deal  to  say  to  you 
about  it." 

"I  really  shouldn't  be  worth  talking 
to  now,"  laughed  Meadows;  "this  heat 
has  made  me  so  sleepy.  To-night — or 
after  tea — by  all  means ! ' ' 

Lady  Dunstable  looked  annoyed. 

"I  am  expecting  the  Duke's  party  at 


150         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

tea, ' '  she  said  peremptorily.  ' '  This  will 
be  my  only  chance  to-day. ' ' 

"Then  let's  put  it  off— till  to-mor- 
row!'7 said  Meadows,  as  he  rose,  still 
smiling.  "It  is  most  kind  of  you,  but  I 
really  must  write  my  letters,  and  my 
brains  are  pulp.  But  I  will  escort  you 
through  the  garden,  if  I  may. ' ' 

His  hostess  turned  sharply,  and  walked 
back  towards  the  front  of  the  house 
where  Sir  Luke  and  Mr.  Frome,  a  young 
and  rising  Under-Secretary,  were  wait- 
ing for  her.  Meadows  accompanied  her, 
but  found  her  exceedingly  ungracious. 
She  did,  however,  inform  him,  as  they 
followed  the  other  two  towards  the  exit 
from  the  garden,  that  she  had  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  subject  he  was 
proposing  for  his  second  series  of  lec- 
tures, to  be  given  at  Dunstable  House 
during  the  winter,  "would  never  do." 

"Famous  Controversies  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Century — political  and  religious." 
The  very  sound  of  it  was  enough  to  keep 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         151 

people  away!  "What  people  expect 
from  you  is  talk  about  persons — not 
ideas.  Ideas  are  not  your  line ! ' ' 

Meadows  flushed  a  little.  "What  his 
"line'*  might  be,  he  said,  he  had  not  yet 
discovered.  But  he  liked  his  subject, 
and  meant  to  stick  to  it. 

Lady  Dunstable  turned  on  him  a  pair 
of  sarcastic  eyes. 

"That's  so  like  you  clever  people. 
You  would  die  rather  than  take  advice." 

"Advice! — yes.  As  much  as  you  like, 
dear  lady.  But — " 

"But  what — "  she  asked,  impera- 
tively, nettled  in  her  turn. 

"Well — you  must  put  it  prettily!" 
said  Meadows,  smiling.  "We  want  a 
great  deal  of  jam  with  the  powder." 

"You  want  to  be  flattered?  I  never 
flatter!  It  is  the  most  despicable  of 
arts." 

"On  the  contrary — one  of  the  most 
skilled.  And  I  have  heard  you  do  it  to 
perfection. ' ' 


152         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

His  daring  half  irritated,  half  amused 
her.  It  was  her  turn  to  flush.  Her 
thin,  sallow  face  and  dark  eyes  lit  up 
vindictively. 

"One  should  never  remind  one's 
friends  of  their  vices, ' '  she  said  with  ani- 
mation. 

"Ah — if  they  are  vices !  But  flattery 
is  merely  a  virtue  out  of  place — kind- 
ness gone  wrong.  From  the  point  of 
view  of  the  moralist,  that  is.  From  the 
point  of  view  of  the  ordinary  mortal,  it 
is  what  no  men — and  few  women — can 
do  without!" 

She  smiled  grimly,  enjoying  the  spar. 
They  carried  it  on  a  little  while,  Mead- 
ows, now  fairly  on  his  mettle,  adminis- 
tering a  little  deft  though  veiled  castiga- 
tion  here  and  there,  in  requital  for 
various  acts  of  rudeness  of  which  she 
had  been  guilty  towards  him  and  others 
during  the  preceding  days.  She  grew 
restive  occasionally,  but  on  the  whole 
she  bore  it  well.  Her  arrogance  was  not 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         153 

of  the  small-minded  sort;  and  the  best 
chance  with  her  was  to  defy  her. 

At  the  gate  leading  on  to  the  moor, 
Meadows  resolutely  came  to  a  stop. 

4 '  Your  letters  are  the  merest  excuse ! ' ' 
said  Lady  Dunstable.  "I  don't  believe 
you  will  write  one  of  them !  I  notice  you 
always  put  off  unpleasant  duties. ' ' 

"Give  me  credit  at  least  for  the  inten- 
tion." 

Smiling,  he  held  the  gate  open  for  her, 
and  she  passed  through,  discomfited,  to 
join  Sir  Luke  on  the  other  side.  Mr. 
Frome,  the  Under-Secretary,  a  young 
man  of  Jewish  family  and  amazing  tal- 
ents, who  had  been  listening  with  amuse- 
ment to  the  conversation  behind  him, 
turned  back  to  say  to  Meadows,  at  a  safe 
distance — "Keep  it  up! — Keep  it  up! 
You  avenge  us  all ! " 

Presently,  as  she  and  her  two  com- 
panions wound  slowly  up  the  moor,  Sir 
Luke  Malford,  who  had  only  arrived  the 


154         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

night  before,  inquired  gaily  of  his  hos- 
tess: 

"So  she  wouldn't  come? — the  little 
wife?" 

"I  gave  her  every  chance.  She 
scorned  us.'* 

"You  mean — 'she  funked  us.'  Have 
you  any  idea,  I  wonder,  how  alarming 
you  are?" 

Lady  Dunstable  exclaimed  impa- 
tiently : 

"People  represent  me  as  a  kind  of 
ogre.  I  am  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  only 
expect  everybody  to  play  up." 

"Ah,  but  you  make  the  rules!" 
laughed  Sir  Luke.  "I  thought  that 
young  woman  might  have  been  a  decided 
acquisition. ' ' 

"She  hadn't  the  very  beginnings  of  a 
social  gift,"  declared  his  companion. 
1 '  A  stubborn  and  rather  stupid  little  per- 
son. I  am  much  afraid  she  will  stand  in 
her  husband's  way." 

"But  suppose  you  blow  up  a  happy 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         155 

home,  by  encouraging  him  to  come  with- 
out her?  I  bet  anything  she  is  feeling 
jealous  and  ill-used.  You  ought — I  am 
sure  you  ought — to  have  a  guilty  con- 
science ;  but  you  look  perfectly  brazen ! J ' 
Sir  Luke's  banter  was  generally  ac- 
cepted with  indifference,  but  on  this  oc- 
casion it  provoked  Lady  Dunstable. 
She  protested  with  vehemence  that  she 
had  given  Mrs.  Meadows  every  chance, 
and  that  a  young  woman  who  was  both 
trivial  and  conceited  could  not  expect  to 
get  on  in  society.  Sir  Luke  gathered 
from  her  tone  that  she  and  Mrs.  Mead- 
ows had  somewhat  crossed  swords,  and 
that  the  wife  might  look  out  for  conse- 
quences. He  had  been  a  witness  of  this 
kind  of  thing  before  in  Lady  Dunstable 's 
circle ;  and  he  was  conscious  of  a  passing 
sympathy  with  the  pleasant-faced  little 
woman  he  remembered  at  Crosby  Led- 
gers. At  the  same  time  he  had  been 
Each  el  Dunstable 's  friend  for  twenty 
years;  originally,  her  suitor.  He  spent 


156         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

a  great  part  of  his  life  in  her  company, 
and  her  ways  seemed  to  him  part  of  the 
order  of  things. 

Meanwhile  Meadows  walked  back  to 
the  house.  He  had  been  a  good  deal  net- 
tled by  Lady  Dunstable's  last  remark  to 
him.  But  he  had  taken  pains  not  to 
show  it.  Doris  might  say  such  things 
to  him — but  no  one  else.  They  were,  of 
course,  horribly  true!  Well — quarrel- 
ling with  Lady  Dunstable  was  amusing 
enough — when  there  was  room  to  escape 
her.  But  how  would  it  be  in  the  close 
quarters  of  a  yacht? 

On  his  way  through  the  garden  he  fell 
in  with  Miss  Field — Mattie  Field,  the 
plump  and  smiling  cousin  of  the  house, 
who  was  apparently  as  necessary  to  the 
Dunstables  in  the  Highlands,  as  in  Lon- 
don, or  at  Crosby  Ledgers.  Her  role 
in  the  Dunstable  household  seemed  to 
Meadows  to  be  that  of  "  shock  absorber." 
She  took  all  the  small  rubs  and  jars  on 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         157 

her  own  shoulders,  so  that  Lady  Dun- 
stable  might  escape  them.  If  the  fish 
did  not  arrive  from  Edinburgh,  if  the 
motor  broke  down,  if  a  gun  failed,  or  a 
guest  set  up  influenza,  it  was  always  Miss 
Field  who  came  to  the  rescue.  She  had 
devices  for  every  emergency.  It  was 
generally  supposed  that  she  had  no 
money,  and  that  the  Dunstables  made 
her  residence  with  them  worth  while. 
But  if  so,  she  had  none  of  the  ways  of 
the  poor  relation.  On  the  contrary,  her 
independence  was  plain ;  she  had  a  very 
free  and  merry  tongue;  and  Lady  Dun- 
stable,  who  snubbed  everybody,  never 
snubbed  Mattie  Field.  Lord  Dunstable 
was  clearly  devoted  to  her. 

She  greeted  Meadows  rather  absently. 

"Bachel  didn't  carry  you  off?  Oh, 
then — I  wonder  if  I  may  ask  you  some- 
thing?" 

Meadows  assured  her  she  might  ask 
him  anything. 

"I  wonder  if  you  will  save  yourself 


158         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

for  a  walk  with  Lord  Dunstable.  Will 
you  ask  him?  He's  very  low,  and  you 
would  cheer  him  up. ' ' 

Meadows  looked  at  her  interroga- 
tively. He  too  had  noticed  that  Lord 
Dunstable  had  seemed  for  some  days  to 
be  out  of  spirits. 

* '  Why  do  people  have  sons ! ' '  said  Miss 
Field,  briskly. 

Meadows  understood  the  reference. 
It  was  common  knowledge  among  the 
Dunstables'  friends  that  their  son  was 
anything  but  a  comfort  to  them. 

"Anything  particularly  wrong  f"  he 
asked  her  in  a  lowered  voice,  as  they 
neared  the  house.  At  the  same  time,  he 
could  not  help  wondering  whether,  under 
all  circumstances — if  her  nearest  and 
dearest  were  made  mincemeat  in  a  rail- 
way accident,  or  crushed  by  an  earth- 
quake— this  fair-haired,  rosy-cheeked 
lady  would  still  keep  her  perennial  smile. 
He  had  never  yet  seen  her  without  it. 

Miss  Field  replied  in  a  joking  tone 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         159 

that  Lord  Dunstable  was  depressed  be- 
cause the  graceless  Herbert  had  prom- 
ised his  parents  a  visit — a  whole  week — 
in  August,  and  had  now  cried  off  on 
some  excuse  or  other.  Meadows  in- 
quired if  Lady  Dunstable  minded  as 
much  as  her  husband. 

' '  Quite ! ' '  laughed  Miss  Field.  "  It  is 
not  so  much  that  she  wants  to  see  Her- 
bert as  that  she's  found  someone  to 
marry  him  to.  You'll  see  the  lady  this 
afternoon.  She  comes  with  the  Duke's 
party,  to  be  looked  at." 

"But  I  understand  that  the  young 
man  is  by  no  means  manageable?" 

Miss  Field's  amusement  increased. 

* '  That 's  Rachel 's  delusion.  She  knows 
very  well  that  she  hasn't  been  able 
to  manage  him  so  far;  but  she's  always 
full  of  fresh  schemes  for  managing  him. 
She  thinks,  if  she  could  once  marry  him 
to  the  right  wife,  she  and  the  wife  be- 
tween them  could  get  the  whip  hand  of 
him." 


160         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

"Does  she  care  for  him?"  said  Mead- 
ows, bluntly. 

Miss  Field  considered  the  question, 
and  for  the  first  time  Meadows  perceived 
a  grain  of  seriousness  in  her  expression. 
But  she  emerged  from  her  meditations, 
smiling  as  usual. 

"She'd  be  hard  hit  if  anything  very 
bad  happened!" 

"What  could  happen?" 

"Well,  of  course  they  never  know 
whether  he  won't  marry  to  please  him- 
self— produce  somebody  impossible!" 

"And  Lady  Dunstable  would  suffer?" 

Miss  Field  chuckled. 

"I  really  believe  you  think  her  a  kind 
of  griffin — a  stony  creature  with  a  hole 
where  her  heart  ought  to  be.  Most  of 
her  friends  do.  Rachel,  of  course,  goes 
through  life  assuming  that  none  of  the 
disagreeable  things  that  happen  to  other 
people  will  ever  happen  to  her.  But  if 
they  ever  did  happen — " 

"The   very   stones   would   cry   out? 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         161 

But  hasn't  she  lost  all  influence  with  the 
youth?" 

"She  won't  believe  it.  She's  always 
scheming  for  him.  And  when  he's  not 
here  she  feels  so  affectionate  and  so 
good!  And  directly  he  comes — " 

"I  see!  A  tragedy — and  a  common 
one!  "Well,  in  half  an  hour  I  shall  be 
ready  for  his  lordship.  Will  you  ar- 
range it  ?  I  must  write  a  letter  first. ' ' 

Miss  Field  nodded  and  departed. 
Meadows  honestly  meant  to  follow  her 
into  the  house  and  write  some  pressing 
business  letters.  But  the  sunshine  was 
so  delightful,  the  sight  of  the  empty 
bench  and  the  abandoned  novel  on  the 
other  side  of  the  lawn  so  beguiling,  that 
after  all  he  turned  his  lazy  steps  thither- 
ward, half  ashamed,  half  amused  to 
think  how  well  Lady  Dunstable  had  read 
his  character. 

The  guests  had  all  disappeared. 
Meadows  had  the  garden  to  himself,  and 
all  its  summer  prospect  of  moor  and 


162         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

stream.  It  was  close  on  noon — a  hot  and 
heavenly  day !  And  again  he  thought  of 
Doris  cooped  up  in  London.  Perhaps, 
after  all,  he  would  get  out  of  that  cruise ! 
Ah !  there  was  the  morning  train — the 
midnight  express  from  King's  Cross  just 
arriving  in  the  busy  little  town  lying  in 
the  valley  at  his  feet.  He  watched  it 
gliding  along  the  valley,  and  heard  the 
noise  of  the  brakes.  Were  any  new 
guests  expected  by  it?  he  wondered. 
Hardly !  The  Lodge  seemed  quite  full. 

Twenty  minutes  later  he  threw  away 
the  novel  impatiently.  Midway,  the 
story  had  gone  to  pieces.  He  rose  from 
his  feet,  intending  this  time  to  tackle  his 
neglected  duties  in  earnest.  As  he  did 
so,  he  heard  a  motor  climbing  the  steep 
drive,  and  in  front  of  it  a  lady,  walking. 

He  stood  arrested — in  a  stupor  of  as- 
tonishment. 

Doris! — by  all  the  gods! — Doris! 

It  was  indeed  Doris.    She  came  wear- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         163 

ily,  looking  from  side  to  side,  like  one 
uncertain  of  her  way.  Then  she  too  per- 
ceived Meadows,  and  stopped. 

Meadows  was  conscious  of  two  mixed 
feelings — first,  a  very  lively  pleasure  at 
the  sight  of  her,  and  then  annoyance. 
What  on  earth  had  she  come  for?  To 
recover  him? — to  protest  against  his  not 
writing? — to  make  a  scene,  in  short? 
His  guilty  imagination  in  a  flash  showed 
her  to  him  throwing  herself  into  his 
arms — weeping — on  this  wide  lawn — for 
all  the  world  to  see. 

But  she  did  nothing  of  the  kind.  She 
directed  the  motor,  which  was  really  a 
taxi  from  the  station,  to  stop  without  ap- 
proaching the  front  door,  and  then  she 
herself  walked  quickly  towards  her  hus- 
band. 

"Arthur! — you  got  my  letter?  I 
could  only  write  yesterday." 

She  had  reached  him,  and  they  had 
joined  hands  mechanically. 

"Letter? — I   got  no   letter!    If  you 


164         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

posted  one,  it  has  probably  arrived  by 
your  train.  "What  on  earth,  Doris,  is  the 
meaning  of  this?  Is  there  anything 
wrong?" 

His  expression  was  half  angry,  half 
concerned,  for  he  saw  plainly  that  she 
was  tired  and  jaded.  Of  course!  Long 
journeys  always  knocked  her  up.  She 
meanwhile  stood  looking  at  him  as 
though  trying  to  read  the  impression 
produced  on  him  by  her  escapade. 
Something  evidently  in  his  manner  hurt 
her,  for  she  withdrew  her  hand,  and  her 
face  stiffened. 

"There  is  nothing  wrong  with  me, 
thank  you!  Of  course  I  did  not  come 
without  good  reason." 

' '  But,  my  dear,  are  you  come  to  stay  I ' ' 
cried  Meadows,  looking  helplessly  at  the 
taxi.  "And  you  never  wrote  to  Lady 
Dunstable?" 

For  he  could  only  imagine  that  Doris 
had  reconsidered  her  refusal  of  the  in- 
vitation which  had  originally  included 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         165 

them  both,  and — either  tired  of  being  left 
alone,  or  angry  with  him  for  not  writing 
— had  devised  this  coup  de  main,  this 
violent  shake  to  the  kaleidoscope.  But 
what  an  extraordinary  step!  It  could 
only  cover  them  both  with  ridicule.  His 
cheeks  were  already  burning. 

Doris  surveyed  him  very  quietly. 

"No — I  didn't  write  to  Lady  Dun- 
stable — I  wrote  to  you — and  sent  her  a 
message.  I  suppose — I  shall  have  to 
stay  the  night." 

"But  what  on  earth  are  we  to  say  to 
her?"  cried  Meadows  in  desperation. 
' ' They're  out  walking  now — but  she '11  be 
back  directly.  There  isn't  a  corner  in 
the  house  I  I've  got  a  little  bachelor 
room  in  the  attics.  Really,  Doris,  if  you 
were  going  to  do  this,  you  should  have 
given  both  her  and  me  notice!  There 
is  a  crowd  of  people  here!" 

Frown  and  voice  were  Jovian  indeed. 
Doris,  however,  showed  no  tremors. 

"Lady  Dunstable  will  find  somewhere 


166         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

to  put  me  up,"  she  said,  half  scornfully. 
* '  Is  there  a  telegram  for  me ! ' ' 

"A  telegram!  Why  should  there  be 
a  telegram?  What  is  the  meaning  of  all 
this?  For  heaven's  sake,  explain!" 

Doris,  however,  did  not  attempt  to  ex- 
plain. Her  mood  had  been  very  soft  on 
the  journey.  But  Arthur's  reception  of 
her  had  suddenly  stirred  the  root  of  bit- 
terness again;  and  it  was  shooting  fast 
and  high.  Whatever  she  had  done  or 
left  undone,  he  ought  not  to  have  been 
able  to  conceal  that  he  was  glad  to  see 
her — he  ought  not  to  have  been  able  to 
think  of  Lady  Dunstable  first!  She  be- 
gan to  take  a  pleasure  in  mystifying  him. 

"I  expected  a  telegram.  I  daresay  it 
will  come  soon.  You  see  I've  asked 
someone  else  to  come  this  afternoon — 
and  she'll  have  to  be  put  up  too." 

' '  Asked  someone  else ! — to  Lady  Dun- 
stable 's  house!"  Meadows  stood  be- 
wildered. "  Really,  Doris,  have  you 
taken  leave  of  your  senses'?" 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         167 

She  stood  with  shining  eyes,  appar- 
ently enjoying  his  astonishment.  Then 
she  suddenly  bethought  herself. 

'  '  I  must  go  and  pay  the  taxi. ' '  Turn- 
ing round,  she  coolly  surveyed  the  "  for- 
tified post."  "It  looks  big  enough  to 
take  me  in.  Arthur! — I  think  you  may 
pay  the  man.  Just  take  out  my  bag, 
and  tell  the  footman  to  put  it  in  your 
room.  That  will  do  for  the  present. 
I  shall  sit  down  here  and  wait  for  Lady 
Dunstable.  I  'm  pretty  tired. ' y 

The  thought  of  what  the  magnificent 
gentleman  presiding  over  Lady  Dun- 
stable's  hall  would  say  to  the  unexpected 
irruption  of  Mrs.  Meadows,  and  Mrs. 
Meadows 's  bag,  upon  the  "fortified 
post"  he  controlled,  was  simply  beyond 
expressing.  Meadows  tried  to  face  his 
wife  with  dignity. 

"I  think  we'd  better  keep  the  taxi, 
Doris.  Then  you  and  I  can  go  back  to 
the  hotel  together.  We  can't  force  our- 
selves upon  Lady  Dunstable  like  this, 


168         A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

my  dear.  I'd  better  go  and  tell  some- 
one to  pack  my  things.  But  we  must,  of 
course,  wait  and  see  Lady  Dunstable — 
though  how  you  will  explain  your  com- 
ing, and  get  yourself — and  me — out  of 
this  absurd  predicament,  I  cannot  even 
pretend  to  imagine ! ' ' 

Doris  sat  down — wearily. 

" Don't  keep  the  taxi,  Arthur.  I  as- 
sure you  Lady  Dunstable  will  be  very 
glad  to  keep  both  me — and  my  bag.  Or 
if  she  won't — Lord  Dunstable  will." 

Meadows  came  nearer — bent  down  to 
study  her  tired  face. 

" There's  some  mystery,  of  course, 
Doris,  in  all  this!  Aren't  you  going  to 
tell  me  what  it  means  f ' ' 

His  wife's  pale  cheeks  flushed. 

"I  would  have  told  you — if  you'd  been 
the  least  bit  glad  to  see  me!  But — if 
you  don't  pay  the  taxi,  Arthur,  it  will 
run  up  like  anything!" 

She  pointed  peremptorily  to  the  tick- 
ing vehicle  and  the  impatient  driver. 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         169 

Meadows  went  mechanically,  paid  the 
driver,  shouldered  the  bag,  and  carried  it 
into  the  hall  of  the  Lodge.  He  then  per- 
ceived that  two  grinning  and  evidently 
inquisitive  footmen,  waiting  in  the  hall 
for  anything  that  might  turn  up  for 
them  to  do,  had  been  watching  the  whole 
scene — the  arrival  of  the  taxi,  and  the 
meeting  between  the  unknown  lady  and 
himself,  through  a  side  window. 

Burning  to  box  someone's  ears,  Mead- 
ows loftily  gave  the  bag  to  one  of  them 
with  instructions  that  it  should  be  taken 
to  his  room,  and  then  turned  to  rejoin 
his  wife. 

As  he  crossed  the  gravel  in  front  of 
the  house,  his  mind  ran  through  all  pos- 
sible hypotheses.  But  he  was  entirely 
without  a  clue — except  the  clue  of  jeal- 
ousy. He  could  not  hide  from  himself 
that  Doris  had  been  jealous  of  Lady 
Dunstable,  and  had  perhaps  been  hurt 
by  his  rather  too  numerous  incursions 
into  the  great  world  without  her,  his  ap- 


170         A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

parent  readiness  to  desert  her  for  clev- 
erer women.  " Little  goose! — as  if  I 
ever  cared  twopence  for  any  of  them!" 
— he  thought  angrily.  "And  now  she 
makes  us  both  laughing-stocks  I " 

And  yet,  Doris  being  Doris — a  proud, 
self-contained,  well-bred  little  person, 
particularly  sensitive  to  ridicule — the 
whole  proceeding  became  the  more  in- 
credible the  more  he  faced  it. 

One  o  'clock ! — striking  from  the  church 
tower  in  the  valley !  He  hurried  towards 
the  slight  figure  on  the  distant  seat. 
Lady  Dunstable  might  return  at  any  mo- 
ment. He  foresaw  the  encounter — the 
great  lady's  insolence — Doris's  humilia- 
tion— and  his  own.  Well,  at  least  let 
him  agree  with  Doris  on  a  common  story, 
before  his  hostess  arrived. 

He  sped  across  the  grass,  very  con- 
scious, as  he  approached  the  seat,  of 
Doris's  drooping  look  and  attitude. 
Travelling  all  those  hours! — and  no 
doubt  without  any  proper  breakfast! 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         171 

However  Lady  Dunstable  might  behave, 
he  would  carry  Doris  into  the  Lodge 
directly,  and  have  her  properly  looked 
after.  Miss  Field  and  he  would  see  to 
that. 

Suddenly — a  sound  of  talk  and  laugh- 
ter, from  the  shrubbery  which  divided 
the  flower  garden  from  the  woods  and 
the  moor.  Lady  Dunstable  emerged, 
with  her  two  companions  on  either  hand. 
Her  vivid,  masculine  face  was  flushed 
with  exercise  and  discussion.  She 
seemed  to  be  attacking  the  Under-Secre- 
tary,  who,  however,  was  clearly  enjoy- 
ing himself;  while  Sir  Luke,  walking  a 
little  apart,  threw  in  an  occasional  gibe. 

"I  tell  you  your  land  policy  here  in 
Scotland  will  gain  you  nothing;  and  in 
England  it  will  lose  you  everything. — 
Hullo!" 

Lady  Dunstable 's  exclamation,  as  she 
came  to  a  stop  and  put  up  a  tortoise- 
shell  eyeglass,  was  clearly  audible. 

' 'Doris!"  cried  Meadows  excitedly  in 


172         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

his  wife's  ear — "Look  here! — what  are 
you  going  to  say! — what  am  I  to  say? 
that  you  got  tired  of  London,  and  wanted 
some  Scotch  air? — that  we  intend  to  go 
off  together? — For  goodness'  sake,  what 
is  it  to  be?" 

Doris  rose,  her  lips  breaking  irre- 
pressibly  into  smiles. 

"Never  mind,  Arthur;  I'll  get  through 
somehow." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  two  ladies  advanced  towards 
each  other  across  the  lawn,  while 
Meadows  followed  his  wife  in  speechless 
confusion  and  annoyance,  utterly  at  a 
loss  how  to  extricate  either  himself  or 
Doris;  compelled,  indeed,  to  leave  it  all 
to  her.  Sir  Luke  and  the  Tinder-Secre- 
tary had  paused  in  the  drive.  Their 
looks  as  they  watched  Lady  Dunstable's 
progress  showed  that  they  guessed  at 
something  dramatic  in  the  little  scene. 

Nothing  could  apparently  have  been 
more  unequal  than  the  two  chief  actors 
in  it.  Lady  Dunstable,  with  the  battle- 
ments of  "the  great  fortified  post"  ris- 
ing behind  her,  tall  and  wiry  of  figure, 
her  black  hawk's  eyes  fixed  upon  her 
visitor,  might  have  stood  for '  all  her 
class;  for  those  too  powerful  and  pros- 
perous Barbarians  who  have  ruled  and 

173 


174         A  GBEAT  SUCCESS 

enjoyed  England  so  long.  Doris,  small 
and  slight,  in  a  blue  cotton  coat  and  skirt, 
dusty  from  long  travelling,  and  a  child- 
ish garden  hat,  came  hesitatingly  over 
the  grass,  with  colour  which  came  and 
went. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Meadows! 
This  is  indeed  an  unexpected  pleasure! 
I  must  quarrel  with  your  husband  for  not 
giving  us  warning. ' ' 

Doris's  complexion  had  settled  into  a 
bright  pink  as  she  shook  hands  with 
Lady  Dunstable.  But  she  spoke  quite 
composedly. 

"My  husband  knew  nothing  about  it, 
Lady  Dunstable.  My  letter  does  not 
seem  to  have  reached  him. ' ' 

"Ah?  Our  posts  are  very  bad,  no 
doubt ;  though  generally,  I  must  say,  they 
arrive  very  punctually.  Well,  so  you 
were  tired  of  London? — you  wanted  to 
see  how  we  were  looking  after  your  hus- 
band?" 

Lady    Dunstable    threw    a    sarcastic 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         175 

glance  at  Meadows  standing  tongue- 
tied  in  the  background. 

"I  wanted  to  see  you,"  said  Doris 
quietly,  with  a  slight  accent  on  the 
"you." 

Lady  Dunstable  looked  amused. 

"Did  you?  How  very  nice  of  you! 
And  you've — you've  brought  your  lug- 
gage?" Lady  Dunstable  looked  round 
her  as  though  expecting  to  see  it  at  the 
front  door. 

1  'I  brought  a  bag.  Arthur  took  it  in 
for  me. ' ' 

'  *  I  'm  so  sorry !  I  assure  you,  if  I  had 
only  known — But  we  haven't  a  corner! 
Mr.  Meadows  will  bear  me  out — it's  ab- 
surd, but  true.  These  Scotch  lodges 
have  really  no  room  in  them  at  all!" 

Lady  Dunstable  pointed  with  airy  in- 
solence to  the  spreading  pile  behind  her. 
Doris — for  all  the  agitation  of  her  hid- 
den purpose — could  have  laughed  out- 
right. But  Meadows,  rather  roughly, 
intervened. 


176         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

"We  shall,  of  course,  go  to  the  hotel, 
Lady  Dunstable.  My  wife's  letter  seems 
somehow  to  have  missed  me,  but  natu- 
rally we  never  dreamed  of  putting  you 
out.  Perhaps  you  will  give  us  some 
lunch — my  wife  seems  rather  tired — and 
then  we  will  take  our  departure.'* 

Doris  turned — put  a  hand  on  his  arm 
— but  addressed  Lady  Dunstable. 

"Can  I  see  you — alone — for  a  few 
minutes — before  lunch!" 

"Before  lunch?  We  are  all  very  hun- 
gry, Pm  afraid,"  said  Lady  Dunstable, 
with  a  smile.  Meadows  was  conscious 
of  a  rising  fury.  His  quick  sense  per- 
ceived something  delicately  offensive  in 
every  word  and  look  of  the  great  lady. 
Doris,  of  course,  had  done  an  incredibly 
foolish  thing.  What  she  had  come  to  say 
to  Lady  Dunstable  he  could  not  conceive ; 
for  the  first  explanation — that  of  a  silly 
jealousy — had  by  now  entirely  failed 
him.  But  it  was  evident  to  him  that 
Lady  Dunstable  assumed  it — or  chose  to 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         177 

assume  it.  And  for  the  first  time  he 
thought  her  odious ! 

Doris  seemed  to  guess  it,  for  she 
pressed  his  arm  as  though  to  keep  him 
quiet. 

"Before  lunch,  please,"  she  repeated. 
"I  think — you  will  soon  understand.'* 
With  an  odd,  and — for  the  first  time — 
slightly  puzzled  look  at  her  visitor,  Lady 
Dunstable  said  with  patronising  polite- 
ness— 

"  By  all  means.  Shall  we  come  to  my 
sitting-room!" 

She  led  the  way  to  the  house.  Mead- 
ows followed,  till  a  sign  from  Doris 
waved  him  back.  On  the  way  Doris 
found  herself  greeted  by  Sir  Luke  Mai- 
ford,  bowed  to  by  various  unknown  gen- 
tlemen, and  her  hand  grasped  by  Miss 
Field. 

"You  do  look  done!  Have  you  come 
straight  from  London?  What — is  Ra- 
chel carrying  you  off!  I  shall  send  you 
in  a  glass  of  wine  and  a  biscuit  directly  1 ' ' 


178         A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

Doris  said  nothing.  She  got  somehow 
through  all  the  curious  eyes  turned  upon 
her;  she  followed  Lady  Dunstable 
through  the  spacious  passages  of  the 
Lodge,  adorned  with  the  usual  sports- 
man's trophies,  till  she  was  ushered  into 
a  small  sitting-room,  Lady  Dunstable 's 
particular  den,  crowded  with  photo- 
graphs of  half  the  celebrities  of  the  day 
— the  poets,  savants,  and  artists,  of  Eng- 
land, Europe,  and  America.  On  an 
easel  stood  a  masterly  small  portrait  of 
Lord  Dunstable  as  a  young  man,  by  Bas- 
tien  Lepage ;  and  not  far  from  it — rather 
pushed  into  a  corner — a  sketch  by  Millais 
of  a  fair-haired  boy,  leaning  against  a 
pony. 

By  this  time  Doris  was  quivering  both 
with  excitement  and  fatigue.  She  sank 
into  a  chair,  and  turned  eagerly  to  the 
wine  and  biscuits  with  which  Miss  Field 
pursued  her.  While  she  ate  and  drank, 
Lady  Dunstable  sat  in  a  high  chair  ob- 
serving her,  one  long  and  pointed  foot 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         179 

crossed  over  the  other,  her  black  eyes 
alive  with  satiric  interrogation,  to  which, 
however,  she  gave  no  words. 

The  wine  was  reviving.  Doris  found 
her  voice.  As  the  door  closed  on  Miss 
Field,  she  bent  forward : — 

"Lady  Dunstable,  I  didn't  come  here 
on  my  own  account,  and  had  there  been 
time  of  course  I  should  have  given  you 
notice.  I  came  entirely  on  your  account, 
because  something  was  happening  to  you 
— and  Lord  Dunstable — which  you  didn't 
know,  and  which  made  me — very  sorry 
for  you!" 

Lady  Dunstable  started  slightly. 

''Happening  to  me? — and  Lord  Dun- 
stable?" 

"I  have  been  seeing  your  son,  Lady 
Dunstable. ' ' 

An  instant  change  passed  over  the 
countenance  of  that  lady.  It  darkened, 
and  the  eyes  became  cold  and  wary. 

"Indeed?  I  didn't  know  you  were 
acquainted  with  him. ' ' 


180         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

"I  never  saw  him  till  a  few  days  ago. 
Then  I  saw  him — in  my  uncle 's  studio — 
with  a  woman — a  woman  to  whom  he  is 
engaged." 

Lady  Dunstahle  started  again. 

"I  think  you  must  be  mistaken,"  she 
said  quickly,  with  a  slight  but  haughty 
straightening  of  her  shoulders. 

Doris  shook  her  head. 

"No,  I  am  not  mistaken.  I  will  tell 
you — if  you  don't  mind — exactly  what  I 
have  heard  and  seen." 

And  with  a  puckered  brow  and  visible 
effort  she  entered  on  the  story  of  the 
happenings  of  which  she  had  been  a  wit- 
ness in  Bentley's  studio.  She  was  per- 
fectly conscious — for  a  time — that  she 
was  telling  it  against  a  dead  weight  of 
half  scornful,  half  angry  incredulity  on 
Lady  Dunstable's  part.  Eachel  Dun- 
stable  listened,  indeed,  attentively.  But 
it  was  clear  that  she  resented  the  story, 
which  she  did  not  believe;  resented  the 
telling  of  it,  on  her  own  ground,  by  this 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         181 

young  woman  whom  she  disliked ;  and  re- 
sented above  all  the  compulsory  discus- 
sion which  it  involved,  of  her  most  inti- 
mate affairs,  with  a  stranger  and  her 
social  inferior.  All  sorts  of  suspicions, 
indeed,  ran  through  her  mind  as  to  the 
motives  that  could  have  prompted  Mrs. 
Meadows  to  hurry  up  to  Scotland,  with- 
out taking  even  the  decently  polite 
trouble  to  announce  herself,  bringing  this 
unlikely  and  trumped-up  tale.  Most 
probably,  a  mean  jealousy  of  her  hus- 
band, and  his  greater  social  success! — a 
determination  to  force  herself  on  people 
who  had  not  paid  the  same  attention  to 
herself  as  to  him,  to  make  them  pay  at- 
tention, willy-nilly.  Of  course  Herbert 
had  undesirable  acquaintances,  and  was 
content  to  go  about  with  people  entirely 
beneath  him,  in  birth  and  education. 
Everybody  knew  it,  alack!  But  he  was 
really  not  such  a  fool — such  a  heartless 
fool — as  this  story  implied !  Mrs.  Mead- 
ows had  been  taken  in — willingly  taken  in 


182         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

— had  exaggerated  everything  she  said 
for  her  own  purposes.  The  mother's 
wrath  indeed  was  rapidly  rising  to  the 
smiting  point,  when  a  change  in  the  nar- 
rative arrested  her. 

"And  then— I  couldn't  help  it!"— 
there  was  a  new  note  of  agitation  in 
Doris's  voice — "but  what  had  happened 
was  so  horrid — it  was  so  like  seeing  a 
man  going  to  ruin  under  one 's  eyes,  for, 
of  course,  one  knew  that  she  would  get 
hold  of  him  again — that  I  ran  out  after 
your  son  and  begged  him  to  break  with 
her,  not  to  see  her  again,  to  take  the  op- 
portunity, and  be  done  with  her!  And 
then  he  told  me  quite  calmly  that  he  must 
marry  her,  that  he  could  not  help  him- 
self, but  he  would  never  live  with  her. 
He  would  marry  her  at  a  registry  office, 
provide  for  her,  and  leave  her.  And 
then  he  said  he  would  do  it  at  once — that 
he  was  going  to  his  lawyers  to  arrange 
everything  as  to  money  and  so  on — on 
condition  that  she  never  troubled  him 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         183 

again.  He  was  eager  to  get  it  done — 
that  he  might  be  delivered  from  her — 
from  her  company — which  one  could  see 
had  become  dreadful  to  him.  I  implored 
him  not  to  do  such  a  thing — to  pay  any 
money  rather  than  do  it — but  not  to 
marry  her!  I  begged  him  to  think  of 
you — and  his  father.  But  he  said  he 
was  bound  to  her — he  had  compromised 
her,  or  some  such  thing ;  and  he  had  given 
his  word  in  writing.  There  was  only  one 
thing  which  could  stop  it — if  she  had 
told  him  lies  about  her  former  life. 
But  he  had  no  reason  to  think  she  had; 
and  he  was  not  going  to  try  and 
find  out.  So  then — I  saw  a  ray  of  day- 
light—" 

She  stopped  abruptly,  looking  full  at 
the  woman  opposite,  who  was  now  fol- 
lowing her  every  word — but  like  one 
seized  against  her  will. 

"Do  you  remember  a  Miss  "Wigram, 
Lady  Dunstable — whose  father  had  a  liv- 
ing near  Crosby  Ledgers  ? ' ' 


184         A  GKEAT  SUCCESS 

Lady  Dunstable  moved  involuntarily 
— her  eyelids  flickered  a  little. 

"Certainly.    Why  do  you  ask?" 

"She  saw  Mr.  Dunstable — and  Miss 
Flink — in  my  uncle's  studio,  and  she  was 
so  distressed  to  think  what — what  Lord 
Dunstable" — there  was  a  perceptible 
pause  before  the  name — "  would  feel,  if 
his  son  married  her,  that  she  determined 
to  find  out  the  truth  about  her.  She  told 
me  she  had  one  or  two  clues,  and  I  sent 
her  to  a  cousin  of  mine — a  very  clever 
solicitor — to  be  advised.  That  was  yes- 
terday morning.  Then  I  got  my  uncle 
to  find  out  your  son — and  bring  him  to 
me  yesterday  afternoon  before  I  started. 
He  came  to  our  house  in  Kensington,  and 
I  told  him  I  had  come  across  some  very 
doubtful  stories  about  Miss  Flink.  He 
was  very  unwilling  to  hear  anything. 
After  all,  he  said,  he  was  not  going  to 
live  with  her.  And  she  had  nursed 
him—" 

"Nursed  him!"  said  Lady  Dunstable, 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         185 

quickly.  She  had  risen,  and  was  lean- 
ing against  the  mantelpiece,  looking 
sharply  down  upon  her  visitor. 

' '  That  was  the  beginning  of  it  all.  He 
was  ill  in  the  winter — in  his  lodgings." 

"I  never  heard  of  it!"  For  the  first 
time,  there  was  a  touch  of  something 
natural  and  passionate  in  the  voice. 

Doris  looked  a  little  embarrassed. 

"  Your  son  told  me  it  was  pneumonia." 

"I  never  heard  a  word  of  it!  And 
this — this  creature  nursed  him?"  The 
tone  of  the  robbed  lioness  at  last! — sin- 
gularly inappropriate  under  all  the  cir- 
cumstances. Doris  struggled  on. 

"An  actor  friend  of  your  son  brought 
her  to  see  him.  And  she  really  devoted 
herself  to  him.  He  declared  to  me  he 
owed  her  a  great  deal — " 

"He  need  have  owed  her  nothing," 
said  Lady  Dunstable,  sternly.  "He  had 
only  to  send  a  postcard — a  wire — to  his 
own  people." 

"He  thought — you  were  so  busy," 


186         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

said  Doris,  dropping  her  eyes  to  the  car- 
pet. 

A  sound  of  contemptuous  anger 
showed  that  her  shaft — her  mild  shaft — 
had  gone  home.  She  hurried  on — "But 
at  last  I  got  him  to  promise  me  to  wait 
a  week.  That  was  yesterday  at  five 
o'clock.  He  wouldn't  promise  me  to 
write  to  you — or  his  father.  He  seemed 
so  desperately  anxious  to  settle  it  all — 
in  his  own  way.  But  I  said  a  good  deal 
about  your  name — and  the  family — and 
the  horrible  pain  he  would  be  giving — 
any  way.  Was  it  kind — was  it  right 
towards  you,  not  only  to  give  you  no  op- 
portunity of  helping  or  advising  him — 
but  also  to  take  no  steps  to  find  out 
whether  the  woman  he  was  going  to 
marry  was — not  only  unsuitable,  wholly 
unsuitable — that,  of  course,  he  knows — 
but  a  disgrace?  I  argued  with  him  that 
he  must  have  some  suspicion  of  the 
stories  she  has  told  him  at  different 
times,  or  he  wouldn't  have  tried  to  pro- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         187 

tect  himself  in  this  particular  way.  He 
didn't  deny  it;  but  he  said  she  had 
looked  after  him,  and  been  kind  to  him, 
when  nobody  else  was,  and  he  should 
feel  a  beast  if  he  pressed  her  too  hardly." 

"'When  nobody  else  was'!"  re- 
peated Lady  Dunstable,  scornfully, 
her  voice  trembling  with  bitterness. 
"Really,  Mrs.  Meadows,  it  is  very  diffi- 
cult for  me  to  believe  that  my  son  ever 
used  such  words ! ' ' 

Doris  hesitated,  then  she  raised  her 
eyes,  and  with  the  happy  feeling  of  one 
applying  the  scourge,  in  the  name  of  Jus- 
tice, she  said  with  careful  mildness : — 

' '  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  for  telling 
you — but  I  feel  as  if  I  oughtn't  to  keep 
back  anything — Mr.  Dunstable  said  to 
me:  'My  mother  might  have  prevented 
it — but — she  was  never  interested  in 
me.'  " 

Another  indignant  exclamation  from 
Lady  Dunstable.  Doris  hurried  on. 
"Only  this  is  the  important  point!  At 


188         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

last  I  got  his  promise,  and  I  got  it  in 
writing.    I  have  it  here. ' ' 

Dead  silence.  Doris  opened  her  little 
handbag,  took  out  a  letter,  in  an  open  en- 
velope, and  handed  it  to  Lady  Dunstable, 
who  at  first  seemed  as  if  she  were  going 
to  refuse  it.  However,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  she  lifted  her  long-handled 
eyeglass  and  read  it.  It  ran  as  follows : 

DEAR  MRS.  MEADOWS, — I  do  not  know  whether 
I  ought  to  do  what  you  ask  me.  But  you  have 
asked  me  very  kindly — you  have  really  been  aw- 
fully good  to  me,  in  taking  so  much  trouble.  I 
know  I'm  a  stupid  fool — they  always  told  me  so 
at  home.  But  I  don't  want  to  do  anything  mean, 
or  to  go  back  on  a  woman  who  once  did  me  a  good 
turn;  with  whom  also  once — for  I  may  as  well  be 
quite  honest  about  it — I  thought  I  was  in  love. 
However,  I  see  there  is  something  in  what  you  say, 
and  I  will  wait  a  week  before  marrying  Miss  Flink. 
But  if  you  tell  my  people — I  suppose  you  will — 
don't  let  them  imagine  they  can  break  it  off — 
except  for  that  one  reason.  And  I  shan't  lift  a 
finger  to  break  it  off.  I  shall  make  no  inquiries 
— I  shall  go  on  with  the  lawyers,  and  all  that.  My 
present  intention  is  to  marry  Miss  Flink — on  the 
terms  I  have  stated — in  a  week's  time.  If  you 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         189 

do  see  my  people — especially  my  father — tell  them 
I'm  awfully  sorry  to  be  such  a  nuisance  to  them. 
I  got  myself  into  the  mess  without  meaning  it, 
and  now  there's  really  only  one  way  out.  Thank 
you  again.  Yours  gratefully, 

HERBERT  DUNSTABLE. 

Lady  Dunstable  crushed  the  letter  in 
her  hand.  All  pretence  of  incredulity 
was  gone.  She  began  to  walk  stonnily 
up  and  down.  Doris  sank  back  in  her 
chair,  watching  her,  conscious  of  the 
most  strangely  mingled  feelings,  a  touch 
of  womanish  triumph  indeed,  a  pleasing 
sense  of  retribution,  but,  welling  up 
through  it,  something  profound  and  ten- 
der. If  he  should  ever  write  such  a  letter 
to  a  stranger,  while  his  mother  was  alive  I 

Lady  Dunstable  stopped. 

"What  chance  is  there  of  saving  my 
son  ? '  '  she  said,  peremptorily.  * '  You  will, 
of  course,  tell  us  all  you  know.  Lord 
Dunstable  must  go  to  town  at  once." 
She  touched  an  electric  bell  beside  her. 

"Oh  no  I"  cried  Doris,  springing  up. 
"He  mustn't  go,  please,  until  we  have 


190         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

some  more  information.  Miss  Wigram 
is  coming — this  afternoon. " 

Rachel  Dunstable  stood  stupefied — 
with  her  hand  on  the  bell. 

"Miss  Wigram — coming. " 

"Don't  you  see?"  cried  Doris.  "She 
was  to  spend  all  yesterday  afternoon 
and  evening  in  seeing  two  or  three  peo- 
ple— people  who  know.  There  is  a 
friend  of  my  uncle's — an  artist — who 
saw  a  great  deal  of  Miss  Flink,  and  got 
to  know  a  lot  about  her.  Of  course  he 
may  not  have  been  willing  to  say  any- 
thing, but  I  think  he  probably  would — 
he  was  so  mad  with  her  for  a  trick  she 
played  him  in  the  middle  of  a  big  piece 
of  work.  And  if  he  was  able  to  put  us 
on  any  useful  track,  then  Miss  Wigram 
was  to  come  up  here  straight,  and  tell 
you  everything  she  could.  But  I  thought 
there  would  have  been  a  telegram — from 
her — "  Her  voice  dropped  on  a  note  of 
disappointment. 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         191 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  The 
butler  entered,  and  at  the  same  moment 
the  luncheon  gong  echoed  through  the 
house. 

' '  Tell  Miss  Field  not  to  wait  luncheon 
for  me,"  said  Lady  Dunstable  sharply. 
"And,  Ferris,  I  want  his  lordship's 
things  packed  at  once,  for  London. 
Don't  say  anything  to  him  at  present, 
but  in  ten  minutes '  time  just  manage  to 
tell  him  quietly  that  I  should  like  to  see 
him  here.  You  understand — I  don't 
want  any  fuss  made.  Tell  Miss  Field 
that  Mrs.  Meadows  is  too  tired  to  come 
in  to  luncheon,  and  that  I  will  come  in 
presently." 

The  butler,  who  had  the  aspect  of  a 
don  or  a  bishop,  said  "Yes,  my  lady,"  in 
that  dry  tone  which  implied  that  for 
twenty  years  the  house  of  Dunstable  had 
been  built  upon  himself,  as  its  rock,  and 
he  was  not  going  to  fail  it  now.  He 
vanished,  with  just  one  lightning  turn 


192         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

of  the  eyes  towards  the  little  lady  in  the 
blue  linen  dress;  and  Lady  Dunstable 
resumed  her  walk,  sunk  in  flushed  medi- 
tation. She  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
Doris,  when  she  heard  an  exclama- 
tion:— 

"Ah,  there  is  the  telegram!'* 
And  Doris,  running  to  the  window, 
waved  to  a  diminutive  telegraph  hoy, 
who,  being  new  to  his  job,  had  come  up  to 
the  front  entrance  of  the  Lodge  instead 
of  the  back,  and  was  now — recognising 
his  misdeed — retreating  in  alarm  from 
the  mere  aspect  of  "the  great  fortified 
post."  He  saw  the  lady  at  the  window, 
however,  and  checked  his  course. 

"For  me!"  cried  Doris,  triumphantly 
— and  she  tore  it  open. 

Can't  arrive  till  between  eight  and  nine.  Think 
I  have  got  all  we  want.  Please  take  a  room  for 
me  at  hotel. — ALICE  WIGRAM. 

Doris  turned  back  into  the  room,  and 
handed  the  telegram  to  Lady  Dunstable, 
who  read  it  slowly. 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         193 

"Did  you  say  this  was  the  Alice  Wig- 
ram  I  knew!" 

"Her  father  had  one  of  your  livings," 
repeated  Doris.  ' '  He  died  last  year. ' ' 

"I  know.  I  quarrelled  with  him.  I 
cannot  conceive  why  Alice  Wigram 
should  do  me  a  good  turn  \ ' '  Lady  Dun- 
stable  threw  back  her  head,  her  challeng- 
ing look  fixed  upon  her  visitor.  Doris 
was  certain  she  had  it  in  her  mind  to  add 
— "or  you  either!" — but  refrained. 

"Lord  Dunstable  was  always  a  friend 
to  her  father, ' '  said  Doris,  with  the  same 
slight  emphasis  on  the  "Lord"  as  be- 
fore. "And  she  felt  for  the  estate — the 
poor  people — the  tenants." 

Rachel  Dunstable  shook  her  head  im- 
patiently. 

"I  daresay.  But  I  got  into  a  scrape 
with  the  Wigrams.  I  expect  that  you 
would  think,  Mrs.  Meadows — perhaps 
most  people  would  think,  as  of  course  her 
father  did — that  I  once  treated  Miss 
Wigram  unkindly!" 


194         A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

"Oh,  what  does  it  matter?'*  cried 
Doris,  hastily, — "what  does  it  matter? 
She  wants  to  help — she's  sorry  for  you. 
You  should  see  that  woman!  It  would 
be  too  awful  if  your  son  was  tied  to  her 
for  life!" 

She  sat  up  straight,  all  her  soul  in  her 
eyes  and  in  her  pleasant  face. 

There  was  a  pause.  Then  Lady  Dun- 
stable,  whose  expression  had  changed, 
came  a  little  nearer  to  her. 

"And  you — I  wonder  why  you  took  all 
this  trouble?" 

Doris  said  nothing.  She  fell  back 
slowly  in  her  chair,  looking  at  the  tall 
woman  standing  over  her.  Tears  came 
into  her  eyes — brimmed — overflowed — in 
silence.  Her  lips  smiled.  Eachel  Dun- 
stable  bent  over  her  in  bewilderment. 

"To  have  a  son,"  murmured  Doris  un- 
der her  breath,  "and  then  to  see  him 
ruined  like  this !  No  love  for  him ! — no 
children — no  grandchildren  for  oneself, 
when  one  is  old — " 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         195 

Her  voice  died  away. 

"  'To  have  a  son'?"  repeated  Lady 
Dunstable,  wondering — "but  you  have 
none!" 

Doris  said  nothing.  Only  she  put  up 
her  hand  feebly,  and  wiped  away  the 
tears — still  smiling.  After  which  she 
shut  her  eyes. 

Lady  Dunstable  gasped.  Then  the 
long,  sallow  face  flushed  deeply.  She 
walked  over  to  a  sofa  on  the  other  side  of 
the  room,  arranged  the  pillows  on  it,  and 
came  back  to  Doris. 

"Will  you,  please,  let  me  put  you  on 
that  sofa?  You  oughtn't  to  have  had 
this  .long  journey.  Of  course  you  will 
stay  here — and  Miss  Wigram  too.  It 
seems — I  shall  owe  you  a  great  deal — 
and  I  could  not  have  expected  you — to 
think  about  me — at  all.  I  can  do  rude 
things.  But  I  can  also — be  sorry  for  my 
sins ! ' ' 

Doris  heard  an  awkward  and  rather 
tremulous  laugh.  Upon  which  she 


196        A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

opened  her  eyes,  no  less  embarrassed 
than  her  hostess,  and  did  as  she  was  told. 
Lady  Dunstable  made  her  as  comfort- 
able as  a  hand  so  little  used  to  the  fem- 
inine arts  could  manage. 

"Now  I  will  send  you  in  some  lunch- 
eon, and  go  and  talk  to  Lord  Dunstable. 
Please  rest  till  I  come  back." 

Doris  lay  still.  She  wanted  very 
much  to  see  Arthur,  and  she  wondered, 
till  her  head  ached,  whether  he  would 
think  her  a  great  fool  for  her  pains. 
Surely  he  would  come  and  find  her  soon. 
Oh,  the  time  people  spent  on  lunching  in 
these  big  houses! 

The  vibration  of  the  train  seemed  to 
be  still  running  through  her  limbs.  She 
was  indeed  wearied  out,  and  in  a  few 
minutes,  what  with  the  sudden  quiet  and 
the  softness  of  the  cushions  which  had 
been  spread  for  her,  she  fell  unexpect- 
edly asleep. 

When  she  woke,  she  saw  her  husband 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         197 

sitting  beside  her — patiently — with  a 
tray  on  his  knee. 

' '  Oh,  Arthur ! — what  time  is  it  t  Have 
I  been  asleep  long?" 

"Nearly  an  hour.  I  looked  in  before, 
but  Lady  Dunstable  wouldn't  let  me 
wake  you.  She — and  he — and  I — have 
been  talking.  Upon  my  word,  Doris, 
you've  been  and  gone  and  done  it!  But 
don't  say  anything!  You've  got  to  eat 
this  chicken  first." 

He  fed  her  with  it,  looking  at  her  the 
while  with  affectionate  and  admiring 
eyes.  Somehow,  Doris  became  dimly 
aware  that  she  was  going  to  be  a  heroine. 

"Have  they  told  you,  Arthur?" 

"Everything  that  you've  told  her. 
(No — not  everything! — thought  Doris.) 
You  are  a  brick,  Doris!  And  the  way 
you've  done  it!  That's  what  impresses 
her  ladyship !  She  knows  very  well  that 
she  would  have  muffed  it.  You're  the 
practical  woman !  Well,  you  can  rest  on 
your  laurels,  darling!  You'll  have  the 


198         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

whole  place  at  your  feet — beginning 
with  your  husband — who's  been  dread- 
fully bored  without  you.  There!" 

He  put  down  his  Jovian  head,  and 
rubbed  his  cheek  tenderly  against  hers, 
till  she  turned  round,  and  gave  him  the 
lightest  of  kisses. 

"Was  he  an  abominable  correspond- 
ent?" he  said,  repentantly. 

"Abominable!" 

"Did  you  hate  him?" 

"Whenever  I  had  time.  When  do  you 
start  on  your  cruise,  Arthur?" 

"Any  time — some  time — never!"  he 
said,  gaily.  "Give  me  that  Capel  Curig 
address,  and  I'll  wire  for  the  rooms  this 
afternoon.  I  came  to  the  conclusion  this 
morning  that  the  same  yacht  couldn't 
hold  her  ladyship  and  me." 

"Oh! — so  she's  been  chastening  you?" 
said  Doris,  well  pleased. 

Meadows  nodded. 

"The  rod  has  not  been  spared — since 
Sunday.  It  was  then  she  got  tired  of 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         199 

me.  I  mark  the  day,  you  see,  almost  the 
hour.  My  goodness! — if  you're  not  al- 
ways up  to  your  form — epigrams,  quo- 
tations— all  pat — " 

"She  plucks  you — without  mercy. 
Down  you  slither  into  the  second  class ! ' ' 
Doris's  look  sparkled. 

"There  you  go — rejoicing  in  my  hu- 
miliations!" said  Meadows,  putting  an 
arm  round  the  scoffer.  "I  tell  you,  she 
proposes  to  write  my  next  set  of  lectures 
for  me.  She  gave  me  an  outline  of  them 
this  morning. ' ' 

Then  they  both  laughed  together  like 
children.  And  Doris,  with  her  head  on 
a  strong  man's  shoulder,  and  a  rough 
coat  scrubbing  her  cheek,  suddenly  be- 
thought her  of  the  line — "Journeys  end 
in  lovers'  meeting — "  and  was  smitten 
with  a  secret  wonder  as  to  how  much  of 
her  impulse  to  come  north  had  been  due 
to  an  altruistic  concern  for  the  Dunstable 
affairs,  and  how  much  to  a  firm  deter- 
mination to  recapture  Arthur  from  his 


Gloriana.  But  that  doubt  she  would 
never  reveal.  It  would  be  so  bad  for 
Arthur ! 

She  rose  to  her  feet. 

" Where  are  they?" 

"Lord  and  Lady  Dunstable?  Gone 
off  to  Dunkeld  to  find  their  solicitor  and 
bring  him  back  to  meet  Miss  Wigram. 
They'll  be  home  by  tea.  I'm  to  look 
after  you." 

"  Are  we  going  to  an  hotel?'* 

Meadows  laughed  immoderately. 

"Come  and  look  at  your  apartment, 
my  dear.  One  of  her  ladyship's  maids 
has  been  told  off  to  look  after  you.  As 
I  expect  you  have  arrived  with  little 
more  than  a  comb-and-brush  bag,  there 
will  be  a  good  deal  to  do." 

Doris  caught  him  by  the  coat-fronts. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  I  shall 
be  expected  to  dine  to-night !  I  have  not 
brought  an  evening  dress." 

"What  does  that  matter?  I  met  Miss 
Field  in  the  passage,  as  I  was  coming  in 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         201 

to  you,  and  she  said :  'I  see  Mrs.  Mead- 
ows has  not  brought  much  luggage.  We 
can  lend  her  anything  she  wants.  I  will 
send  her  a  few  of  Rachel's  tea-gowns  to 
choose  from. '  ' ' 

Doris 's  laugh  was  hysterical ;  then  she 
sobered  down. 

'  *  What  time  is  it  ?  Four  o  'clock.  Oh, 
I  wish  Miss  Wigram  was  here!  You 
know,  Lord  Dunstable  must  go  to  town 
to-night!  And  Miss  Wigram  can't  ar- 
rive till  after  the  last  train  from  here. ' ' 

"They  know.  They've  ordered  a  spe- 
cial, to  take  Lord  Dunstable  and  the 
solicitor  to  Edinburgh,  to  catch  the  mid- 
night mail. ' ' 

"Oh,  well — if  you  can  bully  the  fates 
like  that! — "  said  Doris,  with  a  shrug. 
"How  did  he  take  it?" 

Meadows 's  tone  changed. 

"It  was  a  great  blow.  I  thought  it 
aged  him." 

"Was  she  nice  to  him?"  asked  Doris, 
anxiously. 


202         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

"Nicer  than  I  thought  she  could  be," 
said  Meadows,  quietly.  "I  heard  her 
say  to  him — 'I'm  afraid  it's  been  my 
fault,  Harry.'  And  he  took  her  hand, 
without  a  word. ' ' 

"I  will  not  cry!"  said  Doris,  pressing 
her  hands  on  her  eyes.  "If  it  comes 
right,  it  will  do  them  such  a  world  of 
good !  Now  show  me  my  room. ' ' 

But  in  the  hall,  waiting  to  waylay 
them,  they  found  Miss  Field,  beaming  as 
usual. 

"Everything  is  ready  for  you,  dear 
Mrs.  Meadows,  and  if  you  want  any- 
thing you  have  only  to  ring.  This 
way — ' ' 

"The  ground-floor?"  said  Doris, 
rather  mystified,  as  they  followed. 

"We  have  put  you  in  what  we  call — 
for  fun  —  our  state-rooms.  Various 
Royalties  had  them  last  year.  They're 
in  a  special  wing.  We  keep  them  for 
emergencies.  And  the  fact  is  we  haven't 
got  another  corner." 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         203 

Doris,  in  dismay,  took  the  smiling  lady 
by  the  arm. 

"I  can't  live  up  to  it!  Please  let  us 
go  to  the  inn." 

But  Meadows  and  Miss  Field  mocked 
at  her ;  and  she  was  soon  ushered  into  a 
vast  bedroom,  in  the  midst  of  which,  on 
a  Persian  carpet,  sat  her  diminutive  bag, 
now  empty.  Various  elegant  "confec- 
tions" in  the  shape  of  tea-gowns  and 
dressing-gowns  littered  the  bed  and  the 
chairs.  The  toilet-table  showed  an  ar- 
ray of  coroneted  brushes.  As  for  the 
superb  Empire  bed,  which  had  belonged 
to  Queen  Hortense,  and  was  still  hung 
with  the  original  blue  velvet  sprinkled 
with  golden  bees,  Doris  eyed  it  with  a 
firm  hostility. 

"We  needn't  sleep  in  it,"  she  whis- 
pered in  Meadows 's  ear.  "There  are 
two  sofas." 

Meanwhile  Miss  Field  and  others  flit- 
ted about,  adding  all  the  luxuries  of 
daily  use  to  the  splendour  of  the  rooms. 


204         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

Gardeners  appeared  bringing  in  flowers, 
and  an  anxious  maid,  on  behalf  of  her 
ladyship,  begged  that  Mrs.  Meadows 
would  change  her  travelling  dress  for  a 
comfortable  white  tea-gown,  before  tea- 
time,  suggesting  another  "creation"  in 
black  and  silver  for  dinner.  Doris, 
frowning  and  reluctant,  would  have  re- 
fused; but  Miss  Field  said  softly  "Won't 
you  ?  Rachel  will  be  so  distressed  if  she 
mayn't  do  these  little  things  for  you. 
Of  course  she  doesn't  deserve  it;  but — " 

"Oh  yes — I'll  put  them  on — if  she 
likes,"  said  Doris,  hurriedly.  "It 
doesn't  matter." 

Miss  Field  laughed.  "I  don't  know 
where  all  these  things  come  from,"  she 
said,  looking  at  the  array.  "Rachel 
buys  half  of  them  for  her  maids,  I  should 
think — she  never  wears  them.  Well, 
now  I  shall  leave  you  till  tea-time.  Tea 
will  be  on  the  lawn — Mr.  Meadows  knows 
where.  By  the  way — "  she  looked,  smil- 
ing, at  Meadows — "they've  put  off  the 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         205 

Duke.  If  you  only  knew  what  that 
means." 

She  named  a  great  Scotch  name,  the 
chief  of  the  ancient  house  to  which  Lady 
Dunstable  belonged.  Miss  Field  de- 
scribed how  this  prince  of  Dukes  paid  a 
solemn  visit  every  year  to  Franick 
Castle,  and  the  eager  solicitude — almost 
agitation — with  which  the  visit  was 
awaited,  by  Lady  Dunstable  in  particu- 
lar. 

"You  don't  mean,"  cried  Doris,  "that 
there  is  anybody  in  the  whole  world  who 
frightens  Lady  Dunstable?" 

"As  she  frightens  us?  Yes! — on  this 
one  day  of  the  year  we  are  all  avenged. 
Eachel,  metaphorically,  sits  on  a  stool 
and  tries  to  please.  To  put  off  'the 
Duke'  by  telephone! — what  a  horrid  in- 
dignity !  But  I  Ve  just  inflicted  it. ' ' 

Mattie  Field  smiled,  and  was  just  go- 
ing away  when  she  was  arrested  by  a 
timid  question  from  Doris. 

"Please — shall   Arthur  go   down   to 


206         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

Pitlochry  and  engage  a  room  for  Miss 
Wigram?" 

Miss  Field  turned  in  amusement. 

"A  room!  Why,  it's  all  ready!  She 
is  your  lady-in-waiting." 

And  taking  Doris  by  the  arm  she  led 
her  to  inspect  a  spacious  apartment  on 
the  other  side  of  a  passage,  where  the 
Lady  Alice  or  Lady  Mary  without  whom 
Royal  Highnesses  do  not  move  about  the 
world  was  generally  put  up. 

"I  feel  like  Christopher  Sly,"  said 
Doris,  surveying  the  scene,  with  her 
hands  in  her  jacket  pockets.  "So  will 
she.  But  never  mind ! '  ' 

Events  flowed  on.  Lord  and  Lady 
Dunstable  came  back  by  tea-time,  bring- 
ing with  them  the  solicitor,  who  was  also 
the  chief  factor  of  their  Scotch  estate. 
Lord  Dunstable  looked  old  and  wearied. 
He  came  to  find  Doris  on  the  lawn,  press- 
ing her  hand  with  murmured  words  of 
thanks. 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         207 

"If  that  child  Alice  Wigram — of 
course  I  remember  her  well ! — brings  us 
information  we  can  go  upon,  we  shall  be 
all  right.  At  least  there's  hope.  My 
poor  boy!  Anyway,  we  can  never  be 
grateful  enough  to  you." 

As  for  Lady  Dunstable,  the  large  circle 
which  gathered  for  tea  under  a  group  of 
Scotch  firs  talked  indeed,  since  Franick 
Castle  existed  for  that  purpose,  but  they 
talked  without  a  leader.  Their  hostess 
sat  silent  and  sombre,  with  thoughts  evi- 
dently far  away.  She  took  no  notice  of 
Meadows  whatever,  and  his  attempts  to 
draw  her  fell  flat.  A  neighbour  had 
walked  over,  bringing  with  him — ma- 
liciously— a  Eadical  M.P.  whose  views 
on  the  Scotch  land  question  would  nor- 
mally have  struck  fire  and  fury  from 
Lady  Dunstable.  She  scarcely  recog- 
nised his  name,  and  he  and  the  Under- 
secretary launched  into  the  most  despic- 
able land  heresies  under  her  very  nose — 
unrebuked.  She  had  not  an  epigram  to 


208         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

throw  at  anyone.  But  her  eyes  never 
failed  to  know  where  Doris  Meadows 
was,  and  indeed,  though  no  one  but  the 
two  or  three  initiated  knew  why,  Doris 
was  in  some  mysterious  but  accepted  way 
the  centre  of  the  party.  Everybody 
spoiled  her ;  everybody  smiled  upon  her. 
The  white  tea-gown  which  she  wore — 
a  miracle  of  delicate  embroidery — had 
never  suited  Lady  Dunstable;  it  suited 
Doris  to  perfection.  Under  her  own 
simple  hat,  her  eyes — and  they  were 
very  fine  eyes — shone  with  a  soft  and 
dancing  humour.  It  was  all  absurd — 
her  being  there — her  dress — this  tongue- 
tied  hostess — and  these  agreeable  men 
who  made  much  of  her!  She  must  get 
Arthur  out  of  it  as  soon  as  possible,  and 
they  would  look  back  upon  it  and  laugh. 
But  for  the  moment  it  was  pleasant,  it 
was  stimulating!  She  found  herself 
arguing  about  the  new  novels,  and  stand- 
ing at  bay  against  a  whole  group  of 
clever  folk  who  were  tearing  Mr.  Au- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         209 

gustus  John  and  other  gods  of  her  idola- 
try to  pieces.  She  was  not  shy;  she 
never  really  had  been;  and  to  find  that 
she  could  talk  as  well  as  other  people — 
or  most  other  people — even  in  these 
critical  circles,  excited  her.  The  circle 
round  her  grew ;  and  Meadows,  standing 
on  the  edge  of  it,  watched  her  with 
astonished  eyes. 

The  northern  evening  sank  into  a  long 
and  glowing  twilight.  The  hills  stood  in 
purple  against  a  tawny  west,  and  the 
smoke  from  the  little  town  in  the  valley 
rose  clear  and  blue  into  air  already  au- 
tumnal. The  guests  of  Franick  had 
Scattered  in  twos  and  threes  over  the 
gardens  and  the  moor,  while  Doris,  her 
host  and  hostess,  and  the  solicitor,  sat 
and  waited  for  Alice  Wigram.  She 
came  with  the  evening  train,  tired,  dusty, 
and  triumphant ;  and  the  information  she 
brought  with  her  was  more  than  enough 
to  go  upon.  The  past  of  Elena  Flink — 


210         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

poor  lady ! — shone  luridly  out ;  and  even 
the  countenance  of  the  solicitor  cleared. 
As  for  Lord  Dunstable,  he  grasped  the 
girl  by  both  hands. 

"My  dear  child,  what  you  have  done 
for  us !  Ah,  if  your  father  were  here !" 

And  bending  over  her,  with  the  courtly 
grace  of  an  old  man,  he  kissed  her  on  the 
brow.  Alice  Wigram  flushed,  turning 
involuntarily  towards  Lady  Dunstable. 

"Rachel! — don't  we  owe  her  every- 
thing," said  Lord  Dunstable  with  emo- 
tion— "her  and  Mrs.  Meadows?  But 
for  them,  our  boy  might  have  wrecked 
his  life." 

"He  appears  to  have  been  a  most  ex- 
traordinary fool!"  said  Lady  Dunstable 
with  energy: — a  recrudescence  of  the 
natural  woman,  which  was  positively 
welcome  to  everybody.  And  it  did  not 
prevent  the  passage  of  some  embarrassed 
but  satisfactory  words  between  Herbert 
Dunstable 's  mother  and  Alice  Wigram, 
after  Lady  Dunstable  had  taken  her  lat- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         211 

est  guest  to  "Lady  Mary's"  room,  bid- 
ding her  go  straight  to  bed,  and  be  waited 
on. 

Lord  Dunstable  and  the  lawyer  de- 
parted after  dinner  to  meet  their  special 
train  at  Perth.  Lady  Dunstable,  with 
variable  spirits,  kept  the  evening  going, 
sometimes  in  a  brown  study,  sometimes 
as  brilliant  and  pugnacious  as  ever. 
Doris  slipped  out  of  the  drawing-room 
once  or  twice  to  go  and  gossip  with  Alice 
Wigram,  who  was  lying  under  silken 
coverings,  inclined  to  gentle  moralising 
on  the  splendours  of  the  great,  and  much 
petted  by  Miss  Field  and  the  house- 
keeper. 

"How  nice  you  look!"  said  the  girl 
shyly,  on  one  occasion,  as  Doris  came 
stealing  in  to  her.  "I  never  saw  such  a 
pretty  gown!" 

"Not  bad!"  said  Doris  complacently, 
throwing  a  glance  at  the  large  mirror 
near.  It  was  still  the  white  tea-gown, 
for  she  had  firmly  declined  to  sample 


212         A  GEEAT  SUCCESS 

anything  else,  in  truth  well  aware  that 
Arthur's  eyes  approved  both  it  and  her 
in  it. 

"Lord  Dunstable  has  been  so  kind," 
whispered  Miss  Wigram.  "He  said  I 
must  always  henceforth  look  upon  him  as 
a  kind  of  guardian.  Of  course  I  should 
never  let  him  give  me  a  farthing !" 

"Why  no,  that's  the  kind  of  thing 
one  couldn't  do!"  said  Doris  with  deci- 
sion. "But  there  are  plenty  of  other 
ways  of  being  nice.  Well — here  we  all 
are,  as  happy  as  larks;  and  what  we've 
really  done,  I  suppose,  is  to  take  a 
woman's  character  away,  and  give  her 
another  push  to  perdition." 

"She  hadn't  any  character!"  cried 
Alice  Wigram  indignantly.  ?<And  she 
would  have  gone  to  perdition  without  us, 
and  taken  that  poor  youth  with  her. 
Oh,  I  know,  I  know!  But  morals  are  a 
great  puzzle  to  me.  However,  I  firmly 
remind  myself  of  that  'one  in  the  eye,' 
and  then  all  my  doubts  depart.  Good- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         213 

night.  Sleep  well !  You  know  very  well 
that  I  should  have  shirked  it  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  you!" 

A  little  later  the  Meadowses  stood  to- 
gether at  the  open  window  of  their  room, 
which  led  by  a  short  flight  of  steps  to  a 
flowering  garden  below.  All  Franick 
had  gone  to  bed,  and  this  wing  in  which 
the  "state-rooms"  were,  seemed  to  be 
remote  from  the  rest  of  the  house. 
They  were  alone ;  the  night  was  balmy ; 
and  there  was  a  flood  of  secret  joy  in 
Doris 's  veins  which  gave  her  a  charm,  a 
beguilement  Arthur  had  never  seen  in 
her  before.  She  was  more  woman,  and 
therefore  more  divine !  He  could  hardly 
recall  her  as  the  careful  housewife, 
harassed  by  lack  of  pence,  knitting  her 
brows  over  her  butcher's  books,  mend- 
ing endless  socks,  and  trying  to  keep  the 
nose  of  a  lazy  husband  to  the  grindstone. 
All  that  seemed  to  have  vanished.  This 
white  sylph  was  pure  romance — pure  joy. 


214         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

He  saw  her  anew;  lie  loved  her  anew. 

"Why  did  you  look  so  pretty  to-night? 
You  little  witch!"  he  murmured  in  her 
ear,  as  he  held  her  close  to  him. 

"Arthur!" — she  drew  herself  away 
from  him.  "Did  I  look  pretty?  Hon- 
our bright!" 

"Delicious!  How  often  am  I  to  say 
it!" 

"You'd  better  not.  Don't  wake  the 
devil  in  me,  Arthur!  It's  all  this  tea- 
gown.  If  you  go  on  like  this,  I  shall 
have  to  buy  one  like  it." 

"Buy  a  dozen!"  he  said  joyously. 
"Look  there,  Doris — you  see  that  path? 
Let's  go  on  to  the  moor  a  little." 

Out  they  crept,  like  truant  children, 
through  the  wood-path  and  out  upon  the 
moor.  Meadows  had  brought  a  shawl, 
and  spread  it  on  a  rock,  full  under  the 
moonlight.  There  they  sat,  close  to- 
gether, feeling  all  the  goodness  and  glory 
of  the  night,  drinking  in  the  scents  of 
heather  and  fern,  the  sounds  of  plash- 


A  GREAT  SUCCESS         215 

ing  water  and  gently  moving  winds. 
Above  them,  the  vault  of  heaven  and  the 
friendly  stars ;  below  them,  the  great  hol- 
low of  the  valley,  the  scattered  lights, 
the  sounds  of  distant  trains. 

"She  didn't  kiss  me  when  she  said 
good-night!"  said  Doris  suddenly. 
"She  wasn't  the  least  sentimental — or 
ashamed — or  grateful!  Having  said 
what  was  necessary,  she  let  it  alone. 
She's  a  real  lady — though  rather  a  sav- 
age. I  like  her!" 

* '  Who  are  you  talking  of  ?  Lady  Dun- 
stable?  I  had  forgotten  all  about  her. 
All  the  same,  darling,  I  should  like  to 
know  what  made  you  do  all  this  for  a 
woman  you  said  you  detested  I" 

'  *  I  did  detest  her.  I  shall  probably  de- 
test her  again.  Leopards  don't  change 
their  spots,  do  they?  But  I  shan't — fear 
her  any  more ! ' ' 

Something  in  her  tone  arrested  Mead- 
ows's  attention. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 


216         A  GREAT  SUCCESS 

"Oh,  what  I  say!"  cried  Doris,  draw- 
ing herself  a  little  from  him,  with  a  hand 
on  his  shoulder.  "I  shall  never  fear 
her,  or  anyone,  any  more.  I'm  safe! 
Why  did  I  do  it  I  Do  you  really  want  to 
know?  I  did  it — because — I  was  so 
sorry  for  her — poor  silly  woman, — who 
can't  get  on  with  her  own  son !  Arthur ! 
— if  our  son  doesn't  love  me  better  than 
hers  loves  her — you  may  kill  me,  dear, 
and  welcome!" 

"Doris!  There  is  something  in  your 
voice — !  What  are  you  hiding  from 
me?" 

But  as  to  the  rest  of  that  conversa- 
tion under  the  moon,  let  those  imagine 
it  who  may  have  followed  this  story  with 
sympathy. 


THE  END 


000  706  4 


